


Wrong

by RazetheAxolotl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe, Boypussy, Desk Sex, Detention, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Forced Feminization, Harry wears a skirt, Hermaphrodites, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Tom Riddle, Power Dynamics, Professor Tom Riddle, Sexual Harassment, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tom has a Skirt fetish, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-10-19 20:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17608739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RazetheAxolotl/pseuds/RazetheAxolotl
Summary: Porn… porn-with-feelings?Professor Tom Riddle is Harry’s new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher... what could possibly go “Wrong”? Oh, and Harry has a boy pussy because reasons.*Rape/Non-Con warning is mostly due to Harry's age (fifteen). This story is meant for those who enjoy dubious consent kink/roleplay and will fetishize problematic relationships and dubious consent scenarios (such as power play, abuse of authority, drunken sex, unwanted sexual attention and touching, etc.). Please do not read if this may disturb or upset you. If it gets your motor running, please enjoy!





	1. The Week Before

**Author's Note:**

> I used the Rape/Non-Con warning to cover all bases.….I'm going to hell, it's fine. Please enjoy this alternate universe porn-with-feelings story. Also I am aware that true hermaphrodites are called Intersex people and I do not mean to offend anyone with my interpretation of mythical/fictional wizard hermaphrodites.
> 
> This is a Work-In-Progress, currently estimated to be 16 chapters long, but this may change! Yes, this was previously posted at AFF.net under my old pen name, but I had only written 2 chapters at the time. All of my work will be updated here from now on.

The Week Before:

Summer sun beamed through the high windows of Hogwarts castle, warming the almost empty staffroom. A tall, pale, dark-haired man sat in a wing-backed armchair, a sheaf of parchment in his spidery hands. Tom Riddle, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, surveyed his fifth year class roster, touching a long finger to ink that spelled one of the many names scrawled on the paper. In just a week’s time the new school year would start, and Harry Potter would be in his O.W.L. level class. Well. This would be interesting.

Harry Potter was a peculiarity. An intriguing one at that.

Harry Potter was a hermaphrodite. Everyone in the Wizarding world knew this.

Hermaphrodites were extremely rare and, besides the obvious distinguishing physical characteristics, tended to be powerful magic users and were therefore celebrated in their society. Harry Potter, although a brilliant young Quidditch player and decent student, had yet to show any specific exemplary powers. As to why Harry was a hermaphrodite, there was an underground theory that the Potters were related to a powerful wizard through the father’s bloodline, Ignotus Peverell, and that perhaps the ancient blood had manifested in the boy, but only a few knew of this theory. Tom could also claim a relation to the Peverell line, but this was so distant from Harry Potter’s that he did not dwell on it, nor did he speculate on what sort of powers the boy might have. What consumed his thoughts was of a much more lascivious nature.

What did Harry Potter have under his skirt?

Oh yes, the boy – or rather, hermaphrodite – did wear a skirt. Harry Potter was actually interviewed on this topic by _Witch Weekly_ when it got out that the wizard chose to wear a skirt to classes when he began school. Riddle remembered an eleven-year-old Harry’s blunt reply to a reporter with a smirk. The plucky youngster had said that while he looked like a boy and felt like a boy, he preferred skirts to trousers because they provided much more room. This sent the wizarding world into a tizzy for a few weeks, but after awhile, the interest died down – for some. Not for Tom Riddle.

Tom wondered what the boy needed room for, and how much room at that.

And now, the young hermaphrodite would be in his fifth year class, a class in which it was ever so important to do well, what with O.W.L.s coming up. A student couldn’t afford any slip-ups. Oh, the opportunities….


	2. First Touch

Harry Potter joined his fellow fifth years in trudging forward into the Defense classroom, books clenched in his arms over his chest, not even remotely excited for his favorite class. The first day of lessons had started out rough – double Potions with Snape – and he was hoping that the new professor, rumored to have been a former Slytherin, would not make it even worse. He’d barely gotten any sleep last night despite his new private bedroom. Harry huffed to himself, recalling being forced out of his year mates' dormitory. Last night, after the Welcoming feast, Professor McGonagall had informed him that he was being given a room to himself due to “concerns” within the student body and this was all for the “consideration” of his privacy. Well, obviously she was talking about Seamus-bloody-bigot-Finnegan.

Up until this year, Harry had been in the boy’s dormitory with the rest of his year mates. He’d always felt like a boy, so why shouldn’t he room with the other boys? Of course during his first year there had been awkward questions from his dorm mates, but he looked like a boy despite his skirt (which looked like a kilt anyway, and didn’t men wear those sometimes?). There had never been a problem until now. Someone must have complained to McGonagall, and it couldn’t have been his best friend Ron. It also couldn’t have been Neville – his friend practically treated him like royalty, always saying that his Grandmother had taught him to respect hermaphrodites whenever Harry rolled his eyes at him for opening a door or pulling out a chair. He’d never do something to hurt his feelings. It wasn’t Dean – he was always kind to him, always a top friend. But Seamus had been giving him weird, guilty yet challenging looks since breakfast. It had to have been him.

Wanker.

Harry scowled and sank down in a seat in the second row, Ron on his right and Hermione on his left as usual. Seamus and Dean normally would have sat in front, but Harry noticed Seamus casting furtive looks at him before gesturing Dean towards the back with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Well, who needed him anyway? Harry busied himself with setting his new books on the table until a door slam announced the entrance of their new professor.

Harry looked up to see the tall, dark-haired man in sweeping black robes trimmed with green that he’d only briefly glimpsed during last night’s feast. Up close, he noticed that the man had flawless pale skin. It was an odd shade, not sallow like Snape’s, but white and cold looking, like the marble of a statue. The man’s hair was slicked back in a stylish shape and his face wore an arrogant expression. He would have been incredibly handsome except for that fact that his cheekbones were a bit too sharp. Harry briefly entertained the notion that he was part vampire. Then the man’s dark eyes landed on him, and he felt as though he was being pinned to a butterfly board.

“Good morning,” said the man, his eyes flickering from face to face before landing on Harry’s once more. His voice was quiet and yet induced a shudder as though he had shouted. “I am Professor Riddle, and I am the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

 

* * *

 

Tom could not help himself. He watched Harry more than the others as he began his opening address.

“There will be absolute order and focus in my classroom. What I will be teaching you involves very dangerous elements of magic, and not paying attention can result in grave consequences,” he murmured, enjoying the looks of ill-disguised wariness on the children’s faces. Harry though, he was intrigued to see, did not look panicked – merely attentive.

“Before we begin with your first lesson, I want you to write me a short summation on your previous experience in this subject. Take out a piece of parchment and outline for me what you think were the most important lessons you have learned so far, and what you can improve upon. This will be graded.”

Quiet groans were exchanged, and shuffling began as the students went for their bags, pulling out parchment, ink, and quills. Tom smirked as he turned and he went to sit at his desk where he picked up a book and pretended to read. From behind the book, he watched Harry, who was smoothing out a quill and furrowing his brow with concentration as he stared at his empty parchment. When he began to write, Tom was less concerned with being caught, and he perused Harry’s figure at his leisure.

The be-speckled boy was slim with a long neck and attractive, slightly feminine features. Tom had noticed earlier that he was shorter than every boy in his class, just slightly taller than his bushy-haired, Muggle-born friend. He had dark, messy hair, long enough to be grabbed and pulled. Tom thought about that for a moment, then continued down to Harry’s legs, visible beneath the desk. The boy's slightly tan limbs were toned, covered by knee socks and a skirt but with enough skin showing above the knees to make any man wonder what was up higher. Tom intended to find out. With a twitch of his hand on his wand, he silently cast a spell of his own invention that would surely catch the youth’s attention.

 

* * *

 

Harry was diligently describing the defensive spells to use against the many dark creatures he’d learned about, his quill scratching away, when he felt something brush against his knee. He swatted away whatever it was – a fly perhaps – and he chewed at his lower lip trying to remember his line of thought. Then he felt a soft breeze against his thighs, which was strange because there was no window open in the room. He ran a quick hand over his skirt, making sure it hadn’t shifted, but everything was in place. He brought his hand back to his paper, steadying it, and was about to write again when he felt something between his legs. Harry jumped up and began brushing off his skirt frantically. A bug?

“Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?”

Harry stopped and looked up to see Professor Riddle fixing him with a cool stare. Everyone had stopped working.

“Er- no, I – may I go to the bathroom?”

“You should have gone before class, Potter. The lesson is not long enough for people to be going in and out causing distractions, and you have an essay to finish. You’ll have to wait.”

Harry pinched his lips and sat back down, irritated by everyone’s eyes on him, but thankfully whatever bug had been on him (it must have been that) was gone. He picked up his quill again with a bit of annoyance, thinking that Professor Riddle wasn’t very nice. He had just dipped his quill in ink when he felt the sensation again. But this time, it made him freeze and his eyes go wide. This time, he felt something against his cock. He stared at his paper, biting his lip as the sensation of something soft and velvety, and just a bit wet slid down his cock and continued... He gasped when whatever it was parted his opening and slid inside.

 

* * *

 

Tom watched with greedy hunger, his tongue moving behind his teeth, mirroring the movement of the invisible appendage currently exploring his young student’s cunt. The boy was hunched over his desk, knuckles white and quill shaking in his clenched hands. He was doing a remarkable job keeping his breathing soft, but Tom needed him to lose control for this to work. He moved his tongue sinuously, up and down, in and out behind his hand. To anyone looking, it merely appeared as though he was contemplating the book he held in his hands, but his eyes were fixed on Harry. The boy was now squirming in his seat, his lips bitten and eyes squinting. Tom stabbed his tongue forward and Harry gasped, his shoulders tense next to his ears. Tom smiled behind his hand, then flicked his tongue rapidly, like a snake testing the air, and Harry lurched forward, his desk screeching against the floor. Everyone stared, and that was his cue.

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Potter.”

Harry sucked in a lungful of air and looked up to see Professor Riddle standing in front of him.

“Sir?” he managed to squeak out.

“It appears that you cannot focus. I do not need to remind you that only fifteen minutes ago I stated that focus is the most important element of this class. You will come to my office after dinner to arrange your detention.”

Harry looked at his paper, his face beet red as he felt the eyes of his classmates. Inkblots were obstructing the last sentence of his essay, and he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. It was then that he wondered if someone – maybe Seamus – was playing a trick on him. But what kind of spell would do what had just happened to him? It would have to be a spell found in the Restricted Section. Could Seamus have snuck in there? Did his former friend want to humiliate him that badly?

 

* * *

 

Tom observed the pouting boy in front of him later that night. Harry was apparently so annoyed at the prospect of detention that he didn’t notice Tom locking the door or waving his wand, which was used to cast a Silencing Charm on the room. With another subtle flick, Tom cast his invented charm again, smiling as Harry gasped. Tom walked to his desk and leaned back against it, looking down at Harry with a stern expression, his cock beginning to swell beneath his robes at the thought that Harry was going to feel every word he spoke between his thighs.

“It seems as though something is troubling you, Potter. Care to enlighten me?”

Harry shook his head vehemently, his knees pressing firmly together and his hands clenching the sides of his chair.

“Perhaps something to do with your classmates?”

Harry shook his head again, a flush coming over his cheeks. Tom walked forward, towering over the shivering boy.

“I expect students to look at me when I ask them a question.”

Harry let out a whimper and slowly raised his head, his eyes full of wonder and shame. It made Tom’s cock completely hard in an instant.

“Are the other boys troubling you, Harry?”

“I – no.”

“Have you had sexual relations with any of them?”

Harry’s mouth dropped and his face reddened even more. “No! I – why would you–?”

Tom dropped to his knees in front of Harry in what he hoped was a paternal manner, and brought his hands to Harry’s shoulders. “I ask because I cannot help but notice that the boys have distanced themselves from you, and that you are…growing up. I am a concerned teacher at this school and I want you to feel safe. If perhaps there are issues I should know…I want you to tell me.” Tom moved a hand from Harry’s shoulder to his bare knee.

“Are you sure I cannot help?”

Harry’s throat muscles worked beneath his skin and his lips trembled. Tom stroked a thumb over the indentation of Harry’s knee and whispered, “You should not be afraid to ask for help, Harry.”

 

* * *

 

Harry was panicking. What was going on? Was Seamus casting the spell again from far away? Or maybe this was a symptom of being a hermaphrodite that no one had told him about? And why was his teacher so close? He shouldn’t be so close… he shouldn’t be touching him like that.

Harry shook his head to clear it and leaned away in his chair, his eyes shifting to stare at Riddle’s long fingers, now not merely resting on his knee, but grasping it. He was just about to say something (what, exactly, he wasn’t sure) when suddenly, everything changed.

Riddle surged forward. He shoved Harry’s knees apart, bracing himself against the chair and pinning Harry to it. His hand slid up Harry’s smooth thigh and his long fingers found the heat hidden there, pushing the fabric of Harry’s cotton underwear aside. Harry tried to sit up, to shout, but Riddle grabbed his neck in one hand and slid two fingers into him with the other and then Harry screamed.

 

* * *

 

Tom groaned into Harry’s ear, delighted at how wet and tight he felt. The hot, slick boy pussy was addicting, and he moved his fingers ruthlessly in and out, his thumb rubbing in small circles against the base of Harry’s small cock, while his other hand restrained Harry by his neck, his fingers easily holding him. Harry was shaking and whimpering, his legs swinging, trying to push his heels against Tom’s body but unable to gain any leverage. His hands pushed at Tom’s shoulders so hard that there would likely be bruises. Tom paused to push Harry’s skirt up further, pressing his forehead under Harry’s chin to hold him still, and he ripped the boy’s underwear completely off, grinning at the destructive sound. He saw Harry’s adorable cock then, and wrapped his hand around it, thumb pressing on the leaking tip, and he used his other hand to push two fingers back inside the boy.

“You like that, Harry?”

Harry couldn’t answer, but he did shake his head.

“You are lying to me, Harry,” Tom hissed, moving his face so close to Harry that he could feel the heat of his shame coming off his cheeks. “If you didn’t like it, you wouldn’t be so filthy wet, you wouldn’t be so easy for me.”

Harry sobbed and tears were forming at the corner of his eyes. Tom felt a sudden need to possess him even further and he lunged forward, the hand on Harry’s cock abandoning it in favor of grabbing Harry’s chin and holding him still as he forced his tongue past the boy’s lips. His fingers twisted and scissored as he bit, licked, and sucked at Harry’s mouth, and then Harry whimpered and shook, cum shooting out of his cock and all over Tom’s robes. The boy's inner muscles clamped down on Tom’s fingers to the point of pain and a rush of slickness poured out and dripped down Tom’s busy hand. Tom moaned into Harry’s mouth, sweeping his tongue once more against Harry’s before pulling away, smiling. He easily banished the boy’s release with a wandless spell, but left his fingers inside Harry’s twitching cunt, continuing to move them gently in and out, not ready to end his explorations. His own cock was begging for relief, but Tom was a patient man, and like a serpent stalking an elusive mouse, he would wait.

 

* * *

 

Harry was a boneless mess after his orgasm, his face flushed, skirt pushed up and legs splayed open, his ripped underwear on the floor. He couldn’t look at Riddle kneeling between his legs, but he reached down and grabbed the professor’s wrist, pulling the man’s fingers out of him with a groan and closing his legs. He didn’t have any experience with this sort of thing, but he knew he’d be sore tomorrow.

He also knew that what Riddle had done was wrong. It was so wrong that the man should go to Azkaban. But he also knew, somehow, that Riddle would not have done what he did if he was worried about that. There was just something about him, Harry was realizing, something that was beyond normal, that seemed unreachable by things such as the law. Harry smoothed his skirt down and wrapped his arms around himself.

“That–” Harry coughed, his throat raw from all the noises he’d made. “That was you today, wasn’t it?”

Riddle smirked, then brought his slick fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. Harry flushed.

“Clever one, aren’t you?” Riddle murmured, his eyes hooded, still aroused and dangerous. Harry looked at the floor.

“Why?” he whispered.

“Because I wanted you.”

Harry swallowed, continuing to look at the floor. “Oh.”

“Your detention will be Saturday night. Here. With me.”

Harry nodded.

“You’re dismissed.”

Harry grabbed his bag and fled. 


	3. Detention

 

Harry took deep gulps of air in his private dormitory, grateful of its existence for the first time. He stared down at his rumpled uniform that he had cast off onto the floor. His mind was racing and he could feel adrenaline pumping though his body.

His professor had touched him – put his fingers inside him. He had kissed him, with tongue. He made him have an orgasm. Oh, Merlin…

That had been his first time doing anything sexual with anyone – and it was bad that it had happened this way, it was wrong. Right?

_“You like that, Harry?”_

Harry shook his head to clear it. He could barely think properly.

What he really wanted was a shower – a scalding hot shower.

Harry quickly wrapped a towel around his body and left his room, walking to the cool, empty boys’ bathroom, his body somehow functioning automatically. He numbly hung up his towel on one of the many gold hooks, then padded to the furthest showerhead from the door and turned the faucet knob to the maximum temperature. He couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him, and even though it hurt, it felt good.

It hurt, but felt good…Riddle’s fingers had hurt him at first, but… it had been…

He’d honestly never felt anything like it to compare it to.

Harry struck the tiles with his fists, resting his head between them as the water beat down on his skin. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was like his mind was a cinema screen and he was strapped into a chair with his eyelids taped open. The moments played back, from the first time he felt that spell Riddle had used, to Riddle’s all-encompassing hand on his knee, to Riddle looming over him, his other hand sliding up his thigh, pushing his legs apart…

“Shit,” Harry whispered, realizing that his body was reacting. He knew this was not what he should be feeling. He should be disgusted, angry, or maybe even crying. He should definitely not be moving his hand down between his legs, tentatively exploring with the tips of his fingers what Riddle had so boldly claimed in his office. He shuddered and hunched over, his hot forehead pressed to the cool tiles.

“Oh, sorry!”

Harry gasped and snatched his hand away from himself, turning his upper body to look around, keeping his lower half facing the wall. Seamus was standing in the doorway with his towel around his waist, his eyes wide.

“Er – you’re not supposed to be in here, are you?” the blonde muttered, his eyes darting around.

Harry wanted to shout at him. He glared through the steam. “You got me out of the dormitory, but I’m not about to go shower in the girls’ bathroom.”

Seamus shifted from foot to foot. “Right, well, I’ll come back later then.”

“It’s not like–”

“No, I’ll come back.”

Before Harry could say anything else, Seamus sped off as if a dragon was after him. Harry rolled his eyes and reached for the knob that produced cleansing bubble foam. It was probably a good thing that Seamus had interrupted, he reasoned. He shouldn’t be thinking about what happened, and he shouldn’t do what he was doing, especially at the same time.

 

* * *

 

Harry hardly knew how he made it through the week.

It occurred to Harry that he really ought to tell another professor (or even Headmaster Dumbledore) what had happened. He could get Riddle sacked and thrown into Azkaban to rot. But something held him back. And it was not the fact that he’d been waking up in the middle of the night to find his hand down his shorts, interrupting dreams of tall, black-haired, evil men with dark green eyes looming over him and telling him how sexy he was. He knew he shouldn’t be dreaming of Riddle, shouldn’t be thinking of him like that. Riddle was… well, a bad man. And to think he’d thought all this time that Snape was the worst professor the castle had to offer…. His mother’s best friend (he would never understand that) seemed endearingly cranky compared to Riddle.

All too soon (or was it too slow?) it was Saturday night, the night of his detention. Part of him desperately wanted to skive off, but there was also a larger curious, rebellious, and rather reckless part of him that wanted to know what Riddle had planned. What would his professor do to him – or make him do – this time? The thoughts Harry’s teenaged mind supplied were enough to make him blush and squirm.

Besides, Harry reasoned, maybe no one else would ever want him, what with him being so unusual. Harry had never been with anyone else sexually before, and as far as he knew, no one else had ever even fancied him. He was, after all, a bit different from the rest of the world.

Maybe Riddle was his one chance to actually have sex.

The thought was terribly depressing, but Harry couldn’t help but think that at least the man wasn’t terrible to look at. According to hallway gossip, a lot of Slytherin girls had crushes on the man. He could do much worse, right?

On time for once, Harry stood outside the door to Riddle’s office, adjusting his skirt and running a shaky hand through his hair. Thoughts of reporting Riddle had been dashed and instead Harry was overcome with thoughts of rude fingers, a cruel mouth, and the imminent loss of his virginity. His heart crashed around in his chest, but he was a true Gryffindor, wasn’t he?

With one last deep breath, Harry raised a fist and knocked on the door. It opened without anyone behind it, and Harry crossed the threshold with his chin raised bravely and hands balled into fists at his sides.

 

* * *

 

Tom surveyed Harry critically from behind his desk. The boy’s hands were clenched and his cheeks were slowly coloring under the scrutiny. Tom was pleased to see that the boy had worn his skirt again, his cock already beginning to swell beneath his robes at the sight. He stood up from his chair and circled the desk to come to a stop in front of Harry, a smirk appearing on his face when the boy began to tremble slightly, but then Harry lifted his chin and met Tom’s eyes. Tom raised a challenging eyebrow and Harry glanced away again, his satchel sliding to the floor from his shoulder.

“Er… am I doing lines or–"

Tom moved forward with the grace and ferocity of a snake striking its target, his long fingers wrapping around Harry’s waist and pulling him flush against his body. The boy gasped and his hands flew up to Tom’s chest, palms flat and pushing. Tom allowed a smile to curve his lips, and he slid his hands slowly and deliberately down the boy’s back, delighting in the way Harry shivered against him, his face already red. The boy began to struggle when Tom’s hands cupped his ass through his skirt. Tom’s smile grew and he lifted Harry up and swung him around to his desk, placing him on top of it as papers scattered to the floor. The boy was already panting as though he’d just run around the Quidditch pitch and Tom grabbed his chin roughly.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against Harry’s full bottom lip.

The boy obediently sucked in a breath and snapped his mouth shut. Tom smoothed his hand through the boy’s dark, messy hair in a way that might have seemed comforting before moving closer, his fingers digging into Harry’s knees, guiding them apart.

 

* * *

 

Harry was gripping the desk edge beneath his fingers, his eyes wide as Riddle slipped his hands under Harry’s skirt. Harry felt the man’s thumbs sliding up his inner thighs and then the rest of his fingers hooking in the band of his underwear. Harry’s breath hitched as Riddle tugged on the fabric.

 _‘I should say no…,’_ Harry thought wildly. _‘I should stop this...’_

Riddle raised an eyebrow, and Harry found himself lifting his hips slightly, allowing Riddle to pull the underwear down his legs. He still had his knee socks and shoes on, but Riddle didn’t seem interested in removing them, so Harry didn’t volunteer to take them off. Riddle dropped his underwear to the floor and placed his hands back on Harry’s thighs.

“Lay back, Harry.”

 

* * *

 

Tom watched hungrily as Harry’s throat muscles betrayed his fear. He wondered for a brief second if the boy would refuse, but then Harry was laying down, his head just reaching the opposite edge of the desk, his open legs dangling around Tom’s hips.

Tom slowly pushed Harry’s skirt up, revealing his bare pink cunt and stirring cock. He ignored both, and instead reached for his wand and silently severed the boy’s sweater. Harry made a noise of shocked protest and started to sit up but Tom pushed him back down.

“If you cannot do a decent repairing charm at this point, do not expect to do well in my class, Harry,” said Tom softly, ripping apart the revealed, white buttoned shirt and shoving the clothes away, buttons scattering.

Before Harry could respond, Tom leaned over and bit into the boy’s neck. Harry let out a choked gasp beneath him, pushing at Tom’s shoulders but lacking the strength to actually move him. Tom used one hand to tease Harry’s nipple, feeling it pebble and peak under his fingertips while his other hand slid up Harry’s inner thigh to cup the boy’s already damp cunt. Harry was panting underneath him. Tom traced Harry’s slit with his fingertips, then parted his pussy lips, pushing his middle finger inside. Tom groaned at the tight heat, and Harry whimpered and arched up, exposing his neck even more. Tom couldn’t resist licking and biting the offered pale skin, moving down the boy’s neck to his pert nipples. He pulled his finger from the boy before pushing back in with two and Harry shouted.

“Fuck!”

Tom slowly and methodically drove his fingers in and out of Harry for a few minutes, then pulled his fingers out and stood. He began to leisurely unfasten his robes, his eyes drinking in the sight of Harry laid out before him on his desk. The boy’s skirt was pushed up to rest on his flat stomach, his chest heaving with each breath, his nipples dark and pointed. His small hermaphrodite cock was hard and leaking, and his aroused pussy was shining with slick. Harry was a vision, and Tom’s hard cock was beginning to drip with excitement at the boy’s impending violation. When Tom’s pants fell around his ankles, Harry began to fidget and his knees began to close. Tom smirked, moving forward again and hooking his hands under Harry’s knees, pulling him a bit closer, preventing further movement.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know this was coming.”

Harry shook his head, refusing to meet his eyes, his cheeks pink. “I did – but,” he let out a rattling breath. “Er – I haven’t – I mean, I’ve never– ”

Tom smiled wide, showing his teeth. “Obviously.”

Harry glared at him and he tried to sit up, but Tom leaned over him and pressed a deep kiss against the boy’s protesting lips.

“Relax,” he whispered against the boy’s mouth, and he reached between them to grasp his cock, guiding his thickness to Harry’s cunt.

 

* * *

 

Harry felt the hot head of Riddle’s cock against him, and for the first time began to feel scared. His opening suddenly felt a lot smaller. There was no way it would fit. Riddle grunted and dragged his cock head up and down Harry’s wet slit for a moment, then began pushing. Harry whined and his thighs automatically tried to close. Riddle felt so much bigger than two fingers. He pushed at Riddle’s chest and Riddle growled and grabbed his wrists tightly, then shoved Harry’s hands over his head and pressed his wrists to the edge of the desk.

"Hold on to that,” said Riddle, and Harry obeyed, gripping the edge of the desk. Riddle released his wrists and grabbed Harry’s hips, holding him still with gritted teeth.

“You are so hot inside. So tight and wet. You feel amazing,” said Riddle, hissing as he pushed further into Harry. Harry blushed at the heated words but his heart fluttered.

Riddle was moving at an agonizingly slow pace, clearly savoring it, groaning above him. His professor’s cock felt too big, and it hurt, but it was like it was itching something deep inside that he didn’t know he needed scratched. Harry could hear himself making embarrassingly high-pitched, whimpering noises. He held on tightly to the desk, feeling his inner muscles quivering in protest.

 _‘It’s really happening,’_ he thought, opening his eyes to watch Riddle’s face. The man’s expression, usually so smug, so arrogant, was contorted in selfish pleasure. Merlin, he was really being fucked by a man, a teacher, and this was bad, wrong… and yet Harry found himself moaning in surrender. His hips began to move on their own, his body signaling it was ready for more. Riddle opened his eyes and looked down at him, his former smirk creeping slowly back to his face. He pulled out slightly and thrust quickly back in. Harry cried out. Riddle smiled and began to thrust more quickly, shallowly, not giving Harry quite enough time to get used to it. Harry felt tears coming to his eyes and he shut them, not wanting Riddle to see. Riddle groaned and leaned over him, sucking at his neck and collarbone, and Harry couldn’t help but grab at Riddle’s hair, releasing the desk. Riddle growled against his skin and fucked him harder and faster. Harry whimpered beneath him because it hurt, but it also felt like being completed in some way, and he didn’t realize how empty he was until now.

 

* * *

 

Tom pulled away from Harry, standing to watch the boy as he fucked him deeper. He moved his hands from Harry’s hips to the backs of his thighs, lifting his legs up and over his shoulders. Tom could feel himself getting close, rocking the desk with the force of his thrusts.

“Touch yourself, Harry. Stroke your cock.”

Harry, with tears leaking down the sides of his face, reached obediently for his cock, his other hand going back above his head to anchor himself to the desk.

“You have been so good for me, Harry,” said Tom, almost wonderingly. After all, he had known he would have the boy, but he hadn’t known it would be like this. He didn’t anticipate how tight and wet Harry would be for him. He hadn’t fully appreciated how no one else had done this to him, how he was the first to fuck him, to claim him. Harry Potter was his now.

Tom hissed as his orgasm hit and he pulled his cock out, spurting onto Harry’s skin. His body shook and his eyes were riveted to the sight of his semen coating the boy’s stomach. Harry whined and didn’t seem to be able to stroke himself properly anymore, so Tom smacked his hand away and swooped down to suck Harry’s cock, pushing his fingers into Harry’s cunt once more and fingering him roughly until he felt Harry’s muscles clamp down in orgasm and heard the boy’s wails in his ear.

 

* * *

 

When Harry came back to himself, he was gasping beneath the weight of Riddle, who was still hunched over him, fingers still moving lazily inside him. The man didn’t seem to want to stop. Harry trembled and felt small spasms down below, almost like he could orgasm again, but he felt too open now, too vulnerable, and too sore. He moaned and pushed at Riddle’s shoulder and began to close his legs. Riddle stood up and removed his fingers, then banished their semen with a casual wave of his wand.

“You will likely bleed tonight and tomorrow,” Riddle murmured. “It’s normal.”

Harry swallowed and sat up slowly, pushing down his skirt. He pulled his shirt back on and went to do up the buttons, then remembered that the buttons had been ripped off. Harry could feel Riddle’s eyes on him and his face began to burn. He heard Riddle laugh softly and he looked up with a frown, only to be met with Riddle’s intense stare. The man’s cock was still out and it looked like it was getting hard again. Harry ducked his head, embarrassed. He listened as Riddle sighed and then he heard the rustle of robes and once the man was covered, Harry looked up again.

“Do you need help getting dressed, Harry?” Riddle’s voice was low and teasing.

Harry flushed again and hopped off the desk, scrambling for his wand in his satchel before hurriedly casting a rushed repairing charm. The result was that his shirt had sewn itself shut and the buttons adorned themselves where they should have been, but served no actual purpose. Harry turned to face Riddle, gasping when the man appeared right in front of him. Riddle reached forward and stroked Harry’s shirt, smoothing it down before his fingers wandered back up and found his nipple under the fabric. Harry shrunk away, then moved to pick up his underwear but Riddle twitched his wand and his underwear flew up and into the man’s hand. Harry sputtered and Riddle simply smiled, tucking the white cloth into his robes.

“Off to bed, Harry.”

Harry stepped towards the door, mortified, but before he could take two steps, Riddle strode forward and tugged him back for a breath-stealing kiss, one hand on Harry’s ass and the other tight on his wrist. Harry gasped when it was over and stumbled away.

“Don’t forget your homework for next week,” said Riddle mildly as Harry wrenched open the door. Harry nodded dumbly and backed out of the office, the door shutting on its own.

Harry turned in a daze and walked about halfway down the corridor before breaking into a run. He rounded the corner, his arms pumping and heart hammering.

He collided spectacularly with Severus Snape.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments! Please check out my other work while you wait for the next chapter! :)


	4. Lies and Broomsticks

“Potter! What the devil!”

Harry bounced off of Snape and fell onto his back, his limbs flailing. He cursed and snapped his knees shut, pushing his skirt down frantically and praying to anyone who would listen that his Potions professor (and honorary uncle) hadn’t noticed his lack of underwear in the dim light of the corridor. “Sorry, sir!” he gasped, adjusting his jostled glasses and clambering to his feet. “I – I had detention.”

Snape looked down his hooked nose with a sneer. “Already? This must be a new record. Your mother will not be happy to hear of it.”

Harry, still struggling to regain control of his breath, shot an impatient glare up at Snape. He yanked his bag off the floor and swung it back over his shoulder. “Who says you have to tell her, then?” 

Snape raised both eyebrows at his tone. “You have just served one detention, and yet you seem to be asking for another. Am I correct?”

Harry looked down at the floor, his cheeks red at the thought of his ‘served’ detention. “No, sir. Sorry, sir.” 

Snape rolled his eyes and scoffed. “For Merlin’s sake, Harry, stop with the sulking and get to your dormitory. I am in a gracious mood tonight. I advise you to take advantage of it. _Quickly_.”

Harry nodded and hurried away towards the Gryffindor common room, only letting out the breath he’d been holding once he rounded another corner and Snape was out of sight. He did not pass anyone else save for a few Hogwarts ghosts, and he cautiously climbed through the portrait hole after giving the password, taking care not to give the room an eye-full as he entered.

 

*            *            *

 

Just as Riddle had warned, Harry woke up with a bit of dried blood smeared on his inner thighs and several red spots on the sheets. He tried to get rid of them – the Vanishing spell they were learning in Transfiguration was suddenly very important to master – but he only succeeded in turning the blood stains purple. Some sort of laundering charm would have been helpful, but he had never bothered to learn any household spells. Mrs. Weasley would have known exactly what to do, or maybe his mum, but the thought of writing to either of them to ask was beyond mortifying. Harry dearly hoped there was some sort of confidentiality clause with the Hogwarts house-elves as he stripped the sheets off the bed and tossed them into the corner of the room, defeated. He threw his uniform from the other night into the laundry pile as well, wondering if the house-elves could somehow repair his shirt.

After that was finished, a shower was in order. Harry gathered a towel and headed for the boy’s bathroom, walking a bit stiffer than normal. The showers were mercifully empty that morning, but as it was Sunday, this wasn’t completely unusual. Harry took his time, washing himself carefully as he thought up a plan to ward off his best friends’ guaranteed interrogation.

 

*            *            *

 

“So how was detention?” asked Ron as soon as Harry joined him and Hermione in the common room.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly and put on a bored expression as they made their way to breakfast. “Just lines… you know, the usual,” he said with forced casualness. He brought up his hand and mimed writing robotically with a quill, adopting a false, cheery voice. _“I will not disrupt class. I am a tiny git in glasses.”_  

Ron’s booming laugh echoed through the halls. “Spot on, mate!”

Hermione tutted at the both of them. “Ron, you’re a prefect now, you shouldn’t encourage him.”

“Yes, Mum,” said Ron with a wry grin at Harry.

Harry smiled back, but his heart was beating faster than normal. He had never lied to his friends, at least not about anything like this. It was one thing to assure Ron that his dress robes were all right for the Yule Ball last year. It was quite another to pretend that his detention with Professor Riddle had been “the usual”. He was also a bit disturbed at how well he’d done, how easily he had fooled them. Harry shook himself inwardly and forced himself to continue chatting idly with his friends, only relaxing slightly when they arrived to the Great Hall. Ron strode away from them, loudly declaring his starvation as he barged right through a group of overwhelmed first years. Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and they both hurried after him. Harry thought he was in the clear as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table, but then Hermione sniffed a little and leaned around Ron to peer at him reprovingly.

“Seriously, Harry, I’m still a little disappointed that you managed to get a detention in the first week.”

“Give it a rest, woman!” said Ron, grabbing for a dish of fried eggs and shoveling them onto his plate. “It was Riddle’s fault – that wanker – wouldn’t even let you take a piss!”

“Ron!”

“Wha-?” asked Ron, mouth already stuffed. “Ids da trufe.”

“Honestly!” Hermione shook her head in disgust.

“He’s not so bad,” Harry heard himself mutter, his heart doing something strange inside his chest. He hastily reached for a slice of toast and a butter dish, almost knocking over his goblet. _Why had he said that?_

“What’s this I hear? Little Harriet got detention already? I’m so proud!”

Harry blushed and frowned at Fred’s greeting. The seventh year Weasley twins had arrived for breakfast, and they sat across from the trio with matching devilish grins on their faces.

“Don’t call me that, you know I hate it,” Harry grumbled.

“All the more reason, my sweet Henrietta,” said George with a jaunty wink.

“I must say you’re looking lovely this morning, my little troublemaker,” said Fred, waggling his eyebrows at Harry across the table.

“Positively glowing!” said George.

“Don’t make me vomit,” said Ron.

“You’ll do that all by yourself at the rate you’re inhaling that sausage,” said Hermione coolly.

Everyone laughed and soon they were happily eating and discussing their first week back at Hogwarts with no more talk of Harry’s detention. More students trickled in lazily, the Hall slowly filling. Harry was just beginning to think that he could pretend everything was ordinary when a few teachers entered through the doors at the top of the Hall. Harry’s stomach dropped and his breath caught. Riddle was among them, easily standing out in his black and green robes, his handsome profile sharp and regal. The man was talking to Headmaster Dumbledore as he took his seat at the staff table, looking altogether like a respectable professor, the type that hadn’t taken his student’s virginity over his desk just the night before. Harry wanted to look away but he couldn’t. He also didn’t want Riddle to look at _him_ , and yet he felt oddly ignored when Riddle didn’t so much as glance out at the students. He watched as Riddle poured himself a cup of tea and then continued his conversation with the Headmaster, apparently unconcerned with Harry’s existence, let alone presence in the same Hall.

Last night had probably meant nothing to the man, Harry thought, his insides going cold. Not that Harry wanted it to mean anything… but it had been his first time… Harry turned away and stared at his plate, his appetite gone, realization sinking in like a stone in a pond. Clearly he had been nothing but a conquest, a bit of sport for the man. The sex meant nothing; those kisses meant nothing. The back of Harry’s neck prickled in shame and his shoulders drooped.

A sudden burst of applause and warm shouts jerked Harry out his miserable state, and he turned to see Cedric Diggory walking in for breakfast, surrounded by most of his Hufflepuff year mates. He was shaking his head indulgently, waving off the attention while his friends clamored to sit next to him and the rest of the table’s occupants shoved over to make room.

“The Hufflepuff Hero has arrived,” said Fred dryly.

Cedric Diggory, who had always been well liked, had become even more popular since winning the revived Triwizard Tournament back in June. Since then, he had been featured multiple times in the _Daily Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_ , his fetching portrait smiling humbly up at the readers all summer. He had even made the Ministry of Magic’s “Wizards and Witches of the Year” list, the youngest to ever be included. Besides Harry, he was the most recognized student in the school, and definitely the most popular. Personally, Harry didn’t know him all that well. He had played Quidditch against him in his third year and lost his only match to the older boy. He remembered how irritated he’d been when Cedric had approached him after the match and practically apologized for winning. They had only met once after that at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before Harry’s fourth year, and he’d been annoyingly attractive and perfectly polite then too. Harry couldn’t help but share in Fred and George’s mild contempt for the older boy. He was just too bloody nice.

“I wonder what he did with his winnings,” Ron mused gloomily.

“Hope he bought himself a personality,” said Fred, going back to his food. George snorted.

“ _One thousand Galleons_ ,” groaned Ron, staring at Cedric as if the teen were an actual pile of gold.

Cedric suddenly looked over at their table, meeting Harry’s eyes with his own deep grey ones. He smiled broadly and nodded, holding Harry’s gaze. Harry blinked, then awkwardly waved back before whirling around, his face heating from being caught.

“What was that all about?” asked Ron, still staring unabashedly at the back of Cedric, food forgotten.

“Probably trying to mess with Harry’s head before the season starts,” said Fred shrewdly, squinting over at the Hufflepuff table.

Hermione made an exaggerated ‘hmm’ sound and sipped her tea.

Ron looked round at her. “What?”

Hermione put down her cup with a lofty expression. “Oh, nothing.”

“What?” Harry pressed, grateful for a distraction from Riddle, who was now talking with Snape. Oh, Merlin…

Hermione’s eyes were bright as she spread blackberry jam on a piece of toast. “That was a rather friendly smile, don’t you think? And he broke up with Cho Chang over the summer… I heard it from Ginny, who heard it from Luna Lovegood in Ravenclaw.”

“So?” asked Ron.

“So,” said Hermione, looking mischievous now. “You know Hufflepuffs are all about fair play, that smile can’t have been some silly Quidditch strategy,” she abandoned her toast and leaned in conspiratorially to continue, “Harry’s looking quite pretty lately – oh, don’t look at me like that, Harry, it’s true – and all I’m saying is that _maybe_ I’m not the only one who’s noticed.” She concluded by glancing pointedly at the Hufflepuff table.

Ron gawked at her. “You think Diggory fancies Harry? You’re mental!”

“Oh, thanks a lot,” said Harry, somewhat affronted. Fred and George laughed.

“I’m not saying you’re a troll,” said Ron hastily. “But – c’mon, it’s _Cedric Diggory_! Triwizard champion, Quidditch Captain, bloody Head Boy! Plus, he’s a seventh year, he’s way too old!”

“Oh, really?” Hermione’s eyes had a steely glint in them. “Like how you said Viktor was too old for me last year?”

That started a round of bickering that lasted until the end of breakfast – the Yule Ball was still a touchy subject between Ron and Hermione. Harry ignored most of it, his stomach churning at Ron’s words. If Cedric Diggory, a seventh year, was too old for him, then what would Ron say if he ever found out about Riddle? The man had to be in his thirties at least, and if seventeen fell out of the acceptable age range… but what was Harry thinking, anyway? What he and Riddle had done had been a sordid one-off to never be thought of again, let alone shared with his friends… and as for Hermione’s theory that Cedric fancied him? Harry dismissed the idea completely and sipped his pumpkin juice. Not bloody likely.

“C’mon, Harry, let’s check out the pitch!,” said Ron, finally pushing his plate away. “I haven’t flown in ages!”

Harry quickly put down his goblet and climbed off the bench, eager to get out of the Great Hall.

“Thinking of going for Keeper, Ronniekins?” asked George, standing from the table and stretching his arms over his head with a groan.

“The path to Quidditch glory is not to be taken lightly, dear brother!” said Fred, shaking his finger at Ron.

“Two-on-two?” asked Ron eagerly, already striding away. The twins nodded in agreement and followed their brother, teasing and cajoling him as they left the Hall.

Harry followed after them, waving goodbye to Hermione who pulled out a book from her bag to study as she finished her tea.

A good race around the pitch sounded like a great idea, Harry thought, and would certainly help clear his head. He winced at little as he hurried to catch up to the others, his sore spots becoming more apparent once he’d stood up from the table. He’d be sure to add an extra Cushioning charm to his broom for the day.   

 

*            *            *

 

Half an hour later, after Harry and the twins had retrieved their brooms and changed into practice robes, the four teens met outside the empty Quidditch stadium. They were pleased to see it back to its normal condition, all evidence of June’s impressive maze erased. The sun was bright and a satisfying breeze ruffled the House flags stationed around the pitch. Harry, Ron, and the twins signed out a practice Quaffle and a broom for Ron from the equipment room, and then they kicked off into the sky.

“Room for one more?” someone called.

They looked down. Cedric was gazing up at them, his hand shielding his eyes against the sun, broom in hand.

“Uh–” said Ron.

“Er,” said Harry.

“You’re on!” Fred shouted down at the older boy. “You’re Chaser with Harry against us! Two-on-three! Ron, you release the Quaffle!”

Cedric smiled agreeably up at them and quickly mounted his broom, the wind whipping through his normally neat dark hair as he flew up towards them. Fred and George sped off towards the center of the pitch, Ron following with the Quaffle tucked under his arm. Harry waited for Cedric, thinking that he should be polite since they were playing as a team. He couldn’t help but notice the rival Seeker’s burly frame as the older boy floated up beside him, so much different than his own slim, typical Seeker’s build.

“Alright?” said Cedric.

Harry nodded, then forced himself to make conversation. “How’s your team this year?”

Cedric ducked his head with a sheepish smile. “Not bad. They’re fired up. We’ve got all the same players. It’s my last year to win the Cup.”

“You might just manage that,” Harry conceded with a shrug.

Cedric grinned at him through his windswept hair. “Don’t know about that with you up in the air.” Then he winked.

Harry blushed furiously and he looked away with a cough. “Thanks,” he muttered, embarrassed. “Let’s get to the game.”

“Sure,” said Cedric, smiling lightly. Then something caught his eye and he nodded over to the stands. “Look, we have an audience. The new Defense professor is here.”

Harry’s hands slipped on his broomstick handle, his heart ready to leap out of his throat. He was looking over before he could stop himself.

Professor Riddle sat in the top row of the stands in the Slytherin section, leaning casually against the back railing. He raised a hand and saluted them languidly. Cedric gave a courteous nod and a wave back.

Harry could not believe it. What in Merlin’s name was the man playing at? He turned and flattened himself against his broom, racing away, Cedric following behind him. Harry glanced back at the stands as they joined the others in the middle of the pitch. Riddle was still watching. Harry swore he could physically feel the man’s eyes on him.

“What’s up?” asked Ron.

Cedric nodded over at the stands. “Looks like the new Defense professor is a Quidditch fan.”

“Huh,” Fred tilted his head, considering. Then he smirked. “Let’s give him a good show then.”

Harry felt his stomach flutter. Everything that had happened the night before was swirling in his head like a tornado. He remembered the way Riddle had grabbed him, kissed him, pushed up his skirt, and ripped his clothes. He remembered how the man bit, sucked, and pinched his nipples. He could feel the memory of Riddle’s fingers, then cock pushing into him. He saw in his mind the way Riddle had groaned above him, felt the weight of the man on top of him, heard the filthy words he’d said as he moved inside him. Harry felt himself becoming damp between his legs, and he shifted on his broom.

“First to fifty points wins!” Ron crowed, throwing the Quaffle high in the sky.

Merlin, Harry was in trouble.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented so far, you guys motivate me! Happy Valentine's Day to all!


	5. Gifts and Tests

Watching Harry on a broomstick was a revelation for Tom – he would have stroked himself in the stands if he could have gotten away with it. He groaned gently as he watched the teen swerve and dive between the older boys with ease. Half-formed fantasies floated in and out of his mind, his cock hardening under his robes. Would Harry be able to ride his professor’s cock as well as he rode that lucky Firebolt between his legs? Would Harry grip Tom’s cock as assuredly as he grasped the gleaming wooden handle of his mount?

Tom got up and left the stands quietly after watching Harry score a goal against the Weasley boy, a smirk on his face as he imagined Harry’s reaction to what he would soon find waiting in his bed. It was a bold risk, but Tom Riddle was no coward when it came to fulfilling his ambitions.

 

*            *            *

 

The sun had reached its highest point in the sky when Ron finally called for an end to their game, blaming his growling stomach. Harry threw a quick peek at the stands as he and the others landed on the grass, and he was immensely relieved to see that Riddle was no longer in sight. The twins quickly put away the practice Quaffle and borrowed broomstick, then they all set off for lunch back at the castle. When they arrived to the Great Hall, Cedric thanked them politely for allowing him to play and said goodbye before walking over to the Hufflepuff table, his friends flagging him down.

“He’s not so bad, eh?” said Ron as they sat down to eat.

Harry shrugged as he poured himself some pumpkin juice. _No_ , he thought, remembering the older boy’s wink. _Cedric wasn’t so bad…_

After a quick lunch, Harry and the Weasleys made their way back to the Gryffindor common room, chatting over Ron’s chances for Keeper and who else might go out for the position as they walked. They gave the Fat Lady the password ( _“Toadstool!”_ ) and once inside, Ron threw himself into an empty chair by the fireplace with a contented sigh.

“Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?” he asked, already pulling out cards from the study table drawer.

“There you are!”

They looked over to see Hermione descending from the girls’ staircase, her arms full of books and parchment. “You really should get finished up on your work,” she said, dropping her things onto the table and joining them. “You’ve wasted the whole morning!”

Ron groaned while Fred and George quickly retreated and went to join their friend Lee Jordan by the windows. Harry, while honestly wanting nothing more than to take an afternoon nap, raised his hands in surrender under Hermione’s scolding frown. He hadn’t been able to concentrate the entire week before his detention with Riddle, and was therefore extremely behind on his assignments. He definitely needed to take advantage of the rest of his Sunday.

“Let me put this away and get my books,” he said, shouldering his broom. “I’ll be right back.”

Harry hurried up the boy’s staircase leaving behind the sounds of Hermione trying to convince a grumbling Ron to do some work. He tapped his door with his wand and it swung open, and he walked over the threshold. His eyes automatically scanned the room as he entered and he gasped when he caught sight of his bed, dropping his Firebolt in shock.

There, on his pillow, was a pair of satin black panties.

Harry slammed his door shut, his heart pounding. On a closer look, he noticed a small note underneath the shining fabric. Harry dove for the tiny scrap of parchment and lifted it to his nose to read. There was only one sentence.

_“I owe you a pair”_

Harry’s face burned, and he snatched up the panties and stuffed them under his pillow, his insides squirming. How had Riddle gotten them into his room? Harry read the note again, his fingers gripping the parchment tightly. The professor obviously hadn’t physically come in – others would have seen him, and Harry’s door only opened for his wand. Harry eyed the neat handwriting, chewing at his lip. Riddle didn’t think he’d actually wear these… did he?

Did this mean that Riddle wanted to see him again?

There was a sudden knock and Harry jumped, clutching the note to his chest.

“Hurry up, would you? You can’t leave me down there alone!” Ron moaned through the door.

Harry hastily ripped up the note and kicked the remnants of parchment under the bed. “Coming!” he shouted, and he raced around the room, grabbing random books, parchment, and a quill, hoping he had the right texts for his homework.

“What were you doing in there, mate?” asked Ron once Harry had opened the door and joined him on the stairs, looking ruffled. The redhead waggled his eyebrows. “Polishing your broomstick?”

“Shut up,” Harry snapped, his face red as Ron laughed and bounded down the stairs ahead of him. Harry followed considerably less jubilant, his eyebrows drawn together in worry.

How in Merlin’s name was he supposed to concentrate now?

 

*            *            *

 

All too soon, it was Monday again. Harry was exhausted but proud, somehow managing to finish his essay, _‘Ministry Laws Regarding Defensive Magic in the Case of Life Threatening Situations’_ before midnight. He’d even paid attention to his penmanship, feeling compelled to impress. The thought of Riddle reading it later was strangely motivating.

Harry had been sure that he would be spending his Monday Defense lesson in a distracted state, occupied with pretending that he hadn’t had sex with the man standing in front of him, but he was wrong. Professor Riddle started the lesson by informing them that he would be demonstrating and discussing the effects and legal punishments of the three Unforgivable Curses, which they would be tested on in the essay portion of their O.W.L.s. The class had murmured and shifted with morbid curiosity until Riddle revealed a glass box containing a squeaking brown mouse. The next half hour progressed from naive laughter as Riddle made the mouse tap-dance and perform a variety of impressive acrobatics under the Imperius Curse, then rapidly changed to horrified silence when Riddle cast the Cruciatus Curse. The mouse’s shrill squeals pierced the stillness, echoing in their ears even after Riddle had lifted his wand and ended the curse.

“And last, but never the least?” said Riddle, idly pacing in front of them as the mouse trembled in the box. No one moved, all of them feeling sick at what they had just witnessed. Then Harry found himself slowly raising his hand.

Riddle stopped walking and looked him over with a raised eyebrow. He then surveyed the class for a moment before shaking his head scornfully. “A room full of Gryffindors and yet only one of you is brave enough to accept responsibility for the life of this mouse? I am underwhelmed.” He turned back to Harry. “Yes, Mr. Potter? What is the final Unforgivable?”

Harry spoke quietly and clearly, lowering his hand. “The Killing Curse, sir.”

Riddle smiled grimly, then turned to the mouse and pointed his wand.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

Green light flashed and a sound like rushing wind swept through the room. Lavender squealed, and Harry felt Hermione shudder and stifle a sob next to him. Harry blinked. It was over as quick as a flame being blown out. The mouse was dead on its back. Riddle calmly retrieved a small bin from behind his desk and swept the mouse into it with a wordless spell, its body hitting the bottom of the bin with a dull thud. Everyone flinched. Riddle put down the bin and turned back to the class.

“Ten points to Gryffindor, for Potter’s courage in the face of death.”

Silence greeted this statement. Harry’s insides wriggled unpleasantly.

Riddle gave a closed-lipped smile. “You think me cruel?”

No one spoke. Lavender sniffed.

Riddle sighed and leaned back against his desk, crossing his feet at his ankles. “If it brings you any comfort, that mouse would have only lived a few days more, what with the multiple cats and owls that inhabit this castle.”

There was a slight relaxation and release of breath in the room as the students digested this information.

“Death is inevitable for all creatures,” said Riddle quietly, staring them down before turning his head to gaze out the open window. The class was frozen in their seats, mesmerized as Riddle spoke, slow and hypnotic. “Once you accept that you cannot escape death, you learn to take advantage of life’s offerings… to relentlessly pursue your wildest desires, and to wring out every drop of pleasure from your time on this plane.” He turned to them once more, his dark green eyes sweeping the room before resting on Harry. Harry couldn’t stop from squirming in his seat, tensing under Riddle’s penetrating stare.

The man drummed his fingers, seeming to consider something, then abruptly shifted focus back to the class and snapped, “Homework: _at least_ three rolls of parchment detailing three useful countercurses of your choosing.” There was a scramble as everyone pulled out planners or scraps of parchment and quills to copy Riddle’s instructions. “I want one hex, one jinx, and one self-protection charm, please. Class is dismissed early today. Potter, you will stay for a moment.”

There was a rush to get out of the room, everyone eager to leave. Hermione and Ron shot anxious glances back at Harry, who nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He packed up his own things slowly, his heart picking up speed.

Once the others were gone, the door closed and silence filled the classroom. Harry stood up and turned to face Riddle, who was still leaning against the desk. The man smiled slowly, his eyes hooded.

“Your eyes are the same color as the Killing Curse,” Riddle murmured. “I realized it just now.”

Harry swallowed, rooted to the spot.

Riddle cocked his head as if Harry were a fascinating curiosity.

“Did you get my little gift?”

Harry flushed deeply and nodded, having trouble holding the man’s gaze.

Riddle pushed away from the desk and strolled towards him, his hands casually behind his back.

“And are you wearing my gift now, Harry?”

Harry sucked in a breath, hot all over. He couldn’t move or answer. He simply stood there.

“Shall I check?” asked Riddle, his voice a low purr. The man was standing chest to chest with him now. Harry had to tilt his head back to see him, his lashes fluttering as he blinked up at the man.

 

*            *            *

 

Tom growled hungrily and swooped an arm around Harry’s waist, lifting him onto his toes. The boy clutched at Tom’s shoulders for balance, gasping as Tom reached under his skirt and cupped him roughly between his legs. Tom clucked his tongue in disappointment when he felt cotton instead of satin, and he gave the boy a soft yet reprimanding smack against his covered cunt. Harry cried out and buried his face against Tom’s shoulder, his hips rolling. Tom grinned and dragged his fingers up and down the outline of the boy’s slit, then pressed the heel of his palm against the swelling hermaphrodite cock under the boy’s underwear, groaning in Harry’s ear when he felt the fabric becoming wet.

“You little slut.”

The boy mewled and shook his head, practically riding Tom’s hand as if it were a bucking Hippogriff.

“You will wear your new panties for me next class,” Tom murmured darkly, nibbling at Harry’s ear.

“H-how will you know if I do or not? You can’t keep making me stay after,” said Harry breathlessly, still rocking on his hand.

Tom smirked and lowered Harry to the floor before sliding his hand away, leaving the boy trembling and slick between his legs, orgasm denied. “I can do whatever I want, Harry... I hope you won’t disappoint me again. Now run along, little lion.”

 

*            *            *

 

Harry practically toppled out through the classroom door, his legs still shaking. He stopped short, almost dropping his bag when he saw the entire class waiting for him in the corridor, their eyes wide. His leftover arousal disappeared at once.

“Well he’s not dead,” said Parvati tartly.

“What happened in there, mate?” asked Dean.

“Did he kill something else?” Lavender squeaked, her hands over her mouth.

Harry stuttered, face pink. “Oh, er – he said I could have what it takes to be an Auror…being brave when it comes to death and all that… He said I should look into it…” _Since when had it gotten so easy to lie?_

The class grumbled and shook their heads, obviously hoping for something more interesting before shuffling off towards the Great Hall for lunch, leaving the trio behind.

“So the mouse was to test us! Of course!” said Hermione, clapping her forehead and looking stricken. “Oh no, I’ll bet he writes recommendations for Ministry internships with the Auror department, he probably thinks we’re all so stupid – but, oh Harry, that’s wonderful! I can ask Professor McGonagall for some pamphlets–”

“Didn’t Snape say we needed an ‘Outstanding’ in Potions to continue after fifth year? Pretty sure you need to take N.E.W.T. level Potions to qualify for that job,” said Ron, sounding oddly curt.

“Oh, right,” said Harry, adopting a forlorn expression. Since when did Ron know rules like that? Did his best friend want to be an Auror? Harry hadn’t known. His stomach twisted guiltily. “Guess that’s out, then.”

“But I can help you study, Harry!” said Hermione excitedly. “If you just applied yourself a little bit more–”

“I’m starving, can we move please?” said Ron, turning away abruptly and heading for the Great Hall. Hermione and Harry exchanged looks and followed after him. They changed the subject, discussing which countercurses they might write about for their essays, Ron only participating in grunts. He didn’t perk up until he’d eaten two helpings of soup and a ham and cheese sandwich. By that time Hermione was chatting with Ginny while Ron debated once more with Dean about his obsession with West Ham football, leaving Harry to daydream undisturbed.

 

*            *            *

 

Tom watched the unaware hermaphrodite over lunch. Harry’s continued defiance and seemingly untarnished innocence stoked a predatory flame inside Tom. Yes, at first he had only planned to satisfy his fascination with Harry once, but now… now he was fixated. Tom felt an overwhelming need, not to mention a right, to be inside Harry again – his fingers, tongue, his cock, it did not matter how. He needed to plan as he had before, to decide specifically how and when he would have Harry next. The possibilities were endless. He could make Harry sit in his lap and bounce on his cock. He could take him roughly against a wall, or perhaps bend him over and fuck him from behind. He would need to teach Harry how to take a man’s cock in his mouth at some point too, and – Tom’s mouth watered – he very much wanted to spread the boy’s cunt with his tongue, to taste him, to drink his orgasm from him…

But first, there were some more gifts to be given, more tests. The panties were just the beginning.

Tom sipped at his tea and smiled.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments! Not a lot of smut in these last few chapters, but don't worry, some serious smut is on the way! Sorry, somehow a plot is happening… XD 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. The Lesson

_"I have decided not to wait for your next class. Come to my office tonight at 8 o’clock. Wear your uniform and your gift. Do not disappoint me again."_

Harry frowned, his lips puckered in a pout as he read the note that had somehow been pinned to the freshly laundered robes hanging in his wardrobe. Just who did Riddle think he was, ordering him about? And why was the man so obsessed with seeing him in those ridiculous panties? Harry shoved his robes aside to pull down the rest of his uniform, then his jaw dropped in shock.

Crisp white button-down shirts and new jumpers visibly tailored for a slimmer fit hung behind his robes. Much more distressing were the skirts hanging behind those, the length of them barely complying with school regulations. His skirts normally almost reached his knees and had been rather shapeless, like a kilt, but these new ones were much shorter with flared pleats. They looked like the skirts certain older girls wore – the girls that made Ron’s head swivel in the corridors and Hermione tut with disapproval.

Harry’s shoes were all replaced as well. Gone were the flat, comfortable, clunky shoes he’d always worn. Instead, a row of shining black-heeled shoes gleamed up at him. The heel wasn’t exceptionally high – he’d seen the Slytherin seventh year girls in higher – but the change would definitely be noticeable.

Harry balled up the note in his fist and chucked it to the floor as he stared at his clothes in incensed confusion. Just what sort of game was Riddle playing at? Was this all to humiliate him? Was this a punishment for not wearing the panties yesterday? Was this to test him?

 _‘Or maybe he’s just a sick pervert_ ,’ Harry thought, his heart beating a bit faster as he plucked one of the skirts down from its hanger and ran a hand over the pleats.

Harry wanted very much to disobey Riddle on principle, but he would miss breakfast and be late for class if he didn’t get dressed soon. He would have no choice but to wear the new uniform for today, but he vowed to switch his clothes back after tonight once he figured out how. With an annoyed sigh, he pulled out the new shoes from the bottom of the wardrobe, jerked a shirt, jumper, tie, and robe from their hangers, then rooted in his dresser for a fresh pair of knee socks and underwear and began to get dressed. Harry grunted as he stepped into his new shoes and tottered for a moment as he got used to the height, doggedly ignoring the black panties still under his pillow. He refused to wear those monstrosities all day – the shoes and shorter skirt were going to be challenging enough. He would have to change into them after dinner before meeting Riddle….

Harry’s heart thumped in his chest and he abruptly stopped himself from thinking of his professor before he distracted himself and missed breakfast entirely, quickly shoving his arms into the sleeves of his robes. He was just zipping up his new skirt and smoothing out the pleats when he heard the pounding of someone running up the stairs to his room.

“Harry, c’mon! We’re gonna miss breakfast!”

With a resigned sigh, Harry picked up his school bag and opened his door. “Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.”

Ron’s jaw dropped when he saw Harry, who rolled his eyes.

“Don’t ask,” Harry grumbled, slamming his door shut behind him.

“Uh – yeah, er… good morning to you, too!” said Ron, his ears turning a bit red and his eyebrows climbing into his hair. “What’s, er… what’s up with the clothes?”

Harry growled and started down the stairs, his annoyance genuine but a lie coming from his lips. “House-elves got confused with the laundry, _obviously_. What else?”

“Uh – yeah, sure,” said Ron, following after him.

 

*            *            *

 

Harry had never noticed how irritating and immature the boys of Hogwarts were until that day. The amount of jeering, gawking, neck craning, and mocking whistles were enough to make him want to curse the lot of them, consequences be damned.

“ _Really,”_ said Hermione disdainfully as a group of Ravenclaw seventh year boys walked by them in the corridor after lunch, elbowing each other in the sides and sniggering.

“It’s like they’ve never seen me before!” Harry snarled, catching the eye of one of the boys and glaring at him. “I’ve played Quidditch against that one – for Merlin’s sake, it’s just a different skirt!”

“And the shoes,” Ron muttered, looking at the floor as he walked beside them. The back of his neck had been red all day.

“Excuse me?” said Harry indignantly, stopping in his tracks and jabbing a finger into Ron’s chest. “You too? I barely look any different!”

“You look a little different,” said Ron, not meeting his eyes and his hands going to his pockets. “Mum would say you’re dressed like… like you’re… you know,” he stumbled over the words. “A bit _loose._ ”

Harry gaped at Ron. He felt like he’d been slapped. Hermione squawked in outrage.

“Ronald Weasley! How dare you!”

“Hey, you said the skirt was short too!”

Harry swung around to face Hermione, who was now avoiding his gaze as well, guiltily shuffling her feet (clad in sensible, flat-heeled shoes).

“I – I just said it was a tad shorter than – well, I don’t think you deserve all this nonsense, of course, but maybe it’s a little too much, Harry.”

“I didn’t dress like this on purpose!” Harry raged. “I told you, those damned house-elves–”

“ _Don’t_ ,” said Hermione. “Don’t be mad at them, they made a mistake, that’s all–”

“Yeah? Clearly I did too for thinking my best friends would have my back!”

Before Ron or Hermione could say another word, Harry spun away from them and stormed off to Charms, the sound of his clacking heels echoing loudly in the corridor.

 

*            *            *

 

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring Ron and Hermione, sitting next to Neville during Charms and then working with Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot during Herbology. Hermione kept shooting him guilty looks that Harry stubbornly refused to acknowledge while Ron continued to flinch and turn red around the ears every time a passing boy wolf-whistled in Harry’s direction. Harry sat with Neville during dinner, barely eating, trying to ignore the whispers of his schoolmates as he picked over his food.

Harry was on his way to the Gryffindor common room after dinner, wondering gloomily how long he’d be mocked for this day, when he heard yet another boy’s voice calling his name.

“Hey! Harry!”

“That does it!” Harry seethed, whirling around and drawing his wand, “You want a go, then let’s go!”

“Whoa! It’s just me!”

Cedric Diggory was standing in front of him, wearing a bemused smile with his hands raised in surrender. He was panting slightly and his cheeks were rosy, his hair ruffled. He had apparently been running to catch up with him.

“Sorry,” said Harry quickly, blushing furiously and lowering his wand.

Cedric dropped his hands. “Alright?”

“Er, yeah,” said Harry, stuffing his wand back in his bag, still red. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Yeah, I heard a bit about all that…. Listen, Harry, I just wanted to say…” and Harry was surprised to hear Cedric hesitating as if he were shy. He’d never heard Cedric sound anything less than pleasantly self-assured. He stared as Cedric ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his grey eyes with a bashful grin. “I just wanted to say, you shouldn’t pay any attention to the others… and ... well, I think you look great.” He finished his statement with a warm smile.

“Oh,” said Harry, dumfounded. “Er… thanks?”

Cedric chuckled. “You’re welcome. See you around?”

“Sure,” said Harry, wincing a little as his voice came out a bit higher than normal. He cleared his throat and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “Um, bye then.”

“See you, Harry,” said Cedric with one last grin. He turned and walked away, and Harry stood in the corridor for a few seconds, watching him in bewilderment before shaking his head and continuing to his common room in a daze.

That settled it, Harry thought. The boys of Hogwarts had gone mad.

 

*            *            *           

 

At eight o’clock sharp, Tom opened his office door and stood back, beckoning an anxious looking Harry forward with a sweep of his arm. He shut the door and leaned back against it, his eyes raking the boy’s slim figure in the tailored jumper and shirt before hungrily taking in the long legs on display beneath the boy’s new skirt. Tom’s cock stirred – the last time Harry had been in his office, he’d had those legs in the air as he took the boy’s precious virginity. He continued to observe as he silently cast the locking and silencing spells on the door, enjoying the way the black heels emphasized Harry’s toned calves and thighs. The predator in him especially relished the way they forced the boy to walk with smaller, sweeter steps.

“Let’s not waste time, then,” he murmured, walking to his desk and brushing past Harry as he went, smirking when he felt the boy shiver. He sat and leaned back in his chair, casually propped his legs up on his desk, then began to undo his robes.

“Do you have anything to show me, Harry?”

Harry stood in front of his desk, blushing and fidgeting adorably.

“I believe I asked you to wear something I purchased for you,” Tom prompted. “Show me. Lift up your skirt.”

The boy hesitated for a few seconds, then swallowed down a nervous breath and gripped the edge of his skirt between his fingers. Tom watched greedily as Harry nibbled on his bottom lip before shyly lifting his hands to reveal the black satin panties contrasting sharply against his ivory skin. Tom stifled a groan and took his feet off his desk, spreading his legs slightly to relieve the strain against his hardening cock.

“Come closer, Harry.”

The boy shuffled towards him, head lowered. Tom growled impatiently and reached for him, sliding a hand up under the back of Harry’s skirt and squeezing the boy’s ass. Harry flinched a little and Tom smiled, continuing to rub and massage the boy’s firm cheeks, the satin fabric gliding across his skin. He reached down with his free hand and began to undo his own trousers.

“Do you like your gift and new uniform, Harry?”

“It’s weird,” the boy mumbled, clearly distracted. Tom slid his hand from Harry’s ass to the front of the panties and dragged his thumb over to the boy’s covered cock head, smiling as Harry inhaled sharply and sucked on his bottom lip in response.

“You look exquisite in them.”

Harry blushed and his shoulders hunched around his ears.

“Is – is this like a thing for you, then?” he stammered. “Dressing me up in girl’s clothes?”

Tom grinned, still rubbing the boy’s stiffening cock with one hand, his other lazily squeezing his own cock beneath his pants. “Clothes are clothes, Harry. Fabric has no gender.”

Harry began the squirm away and he lifted his chin a little, his tone become sulky. “Well, the other boys are all making fun of me for it so I hope you’re happy.”

Tom grabbed at his hips, restraining him from moving further away. “They are intrigued if anything at all.”

“Not everyone’s a pervert like you,” said Harry, and he started to push his skirt back down.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Tom with a chuckle, swatting at Harry’s hands. “I believe the house-elves will have an unusual amount of sheets to change tomorrow.” Then, before Harry could protest any further, Tom yanked the boy’s panties down.

 

*            *            *

 

Harry gave a startled cry as Riddle lunged forward and sucked Harry’s cock into his mouth, his strong hands shoving the jumper and shirt up under Harry’s arms and holding him firmly around his chest. Harry gasped and flailed as Riddle’s thumbs rubbed against his nipples, bringing them to peaks as he continued to suck him until Harry was thrusting into his mouth. With a satisfied growl, the professor released Harry’s cock from his mouth and dragged Harry down to sit across his lap. Harry was panting as the man tugged at his panties, which were still restricting Harry around the knees, and Harry found himself lifting his legs to help as Riddle dragged them down past his heels and tossed them to the floor.

“Yes, every boy in this castle will spill his seed tonight to the thought of you,” Riddle whispered into Harry’s ear, sliding his hand up under Harry’s skirt and petting his thighs. Harry shuddered and gripped onto Riddle’s shirt.

“I think that you like that idea,” Riddle continued, his mouth hot against his skin. “I think you like me making you dress up this way.”

“Shut up,” said Harry, ducking his head in shame.

Riddle clapped him on the thigh and Harry yelped.

“Watch yourself, Harry,” said Riddle softly. “Now, you will open your legs for me and you will not close them until I say you can.”

Harry moaned and buried his face against Riddle’s shirt, shivering as he spread his legs. He sobbed when Riddle’s fingers touched and traced his slit, ashamed at how wet he already was. Riddle moaned in his ear and pressed kisses into his neck as he trailed a finger up and down Harry’s pussy lips, teasing his slick folds before parting them and pushing in gently. Harry clung to the man’s shirt, his hips rocking up automatically.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Riddle reprimanded, removing his finger.

Harry whined, but then Riddle was pulling his own cock out of his pants and Harry was completely distracted. He stared, open-mouthed as Riddle stroked himself leisurely – he hadn’t really gotten a chance to look closely last time. His professor’s cock was surrounded by dark pubic hair and was thick, veined, and uncircumcised. Harry was fascinated as he watched the man pull back his foreskin over the wet head. He honestly couldn’t believe that he had taken the full length inside him. It looked so much different than any cock he’d glimpsed in the showers, not to mention his own small hermaphrodite cock. This was a _man’s_ cock.

“You want this, Harry?”

Harry jolted out of his trance and met Riddle’s eyes, blushing as he saw the man’s smug stare.

“Go on, then,” said Riddle, releasing his cock and tapping Harry’s cheek. “Touch me.”

Harry swallowed and let go of Riddle’s shirt, breathing through his nose as he brought a trembling hand down to the man’s cock. He wrapped his fingers around it timidly, marveling at how long and warm it was.

“Stroke me, that’s it…”

Harry moved his hand up and down Riddle’s cock hesitantly, licking his lips as he saw a bead of precum leak from the tip. He rubbed at it with his thumb and Riddle hissed and grabbed his hips, tugging at him.

“Face me, straddle my lap.”

Harry followed his orders without hesitation this time, moving in Riddle’s lap and placing his thighs on the outside of Riddle’s. He kept stroking the man’s cock, assuming that was what he wanted, but then Riddle grabbed his wrist to still him and put his other hand back under his skirt.

“You’re going to ride me tonight, Harry. You’re going to fuck yourself on my cock.”

Harry gasped and arched up as Riddle slid his finger inside him, preparing him. Harry began to rock on his finger, and Riddle smiled approvingly.

“That’s it,” he whispered, withdrawing his finger after several minutes. “Now, take me inside you, Harry…”

Harry trembled and looked down at the man’s cock. It looked so intimidating. He shuffled closer on his knees and reached down for it, licking his lips as he hovered above it. Riddle slid his hands around the backs of his thighs and pulled him even closer.

“Now, Harry,” he whispered, an impatient edge creeping into his voice.

Harry held the man’s cock still as he sunk down, and he whimpered as he felt it pushing at his opening. It hurt, almost as much as the first time, and he began to lift off, but Riddle grunted and held him down by his waist.

“Relax, Harry. Let me in.”

Harry kept his eyes shut as he rocked his hips inexpertly, not wanting to see Riddle’s face as he struggled to accept the man’s cock inside him. He whined in frustration at the stinging stretch. It was much easier last time when Riddle had controlled the pace, when he didn’t need to do this himself.

“Breathe,” Riddle ordered.

Harry took a deep breath, forcing his inner muscles to stop clamping, but he was only able to take a bit more.

“Lift up and sink back down,” Riddle instructed, his hands on Harry’s hips. Harry gripped the chair and pushed himself up by the arms shakily, then lowered himself with a wince.

“Come now, Harry, I know you can do better than that. Again.”

Harry whimpered at the stretch as he obeyed, his ears burning at Riddle’s smoldering voice. His thighs were trembling, and he could feel himself sweating. His whole body felt on fire.

“Faster. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Harry felt tears of shame leaking past his eyelids, and he shook his head. “I can’t!”

“You can and you will. Use your legs. Hold on to me with your hands.”

Harry lifted onto his knees, Riddle’s cock head still inside him, and he reached up to grip the man’s shoulders. He took a quivering breath, then lowered himself and began to move in a slow bouncing motion up and down on Riddle’s cock, using his legs and finding a tolerable angle, hoping he was doing it right.

“That’s it, Harry. Good boy.”

Harry whimpered at the praise, lifting himself a little higher each time, establishing a good rhythm. Soon he was panting as he took Riddle deeply again and again. It barely hurt anymore, and the sound of cock sliding in his wet pussy and his ass slapping against Riddle’s thighs filled the room.

“Ah, yes – such a sweet cunt,” Riddle hissed into his ear. “You take cock so well... you like riding a man’s cock, don’t you?”

“ _Oh fuck…,”_ Harry buried his face in Riddle’s neck. He could feel tremors in his pussy and his thighs were starting to shake. He changed from bouncing to rocking, and he moaned at the feel of Riddle’s cock reaching something deep inside him.

 _“Tease,”_ Riddle growled and nipped at his ear. He gripped Harry’s hips, stilling him. “Now… stand up and bend over the desk.”

 

*            *            *

 

Tom stood up, his cock dripping as Harry turned in front of him on trembling legs and shyly bent forward over the desk, his skirt lifting indecently. Tom grabbed at Harry’s hips, grinding against the boy’s ass and groaning as his wet cock rubbed against the smooth flesh. He seized a fistful of Harry’s hair and gave the boy’s ass a smack, grinning when the boy yelped, then he felt between Harry’s legs and thrust two fingers into the soaking pussy from behind. Harry wailed and scrabbled at the desk, his legs kicking as Tom fingered him deeply, holding him down by the hair.

“You’re so wet, so eager for my cock,” Tom hissed, pulling his fingers from Harry’s cunt and greasing his cock with the boy’s slick. He heard Harry sob beneath him as he lined up his cock, then he pushed into the boy’s pussy, smiling as he felt the inner muscles flutter in protest around him. He stroked Harry’s sweaty back as he pulled out slowly, then he sunk back inside the tight heat, repeating this again and again, unhurriedly. The sight and sound of his cock penetrating the boy’s glistening pink cunt mesmerized Tom, and Harry’s precious gasps and mewls were addicting. Eventually, however, the desire to make the boy scream again won over.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” said Tom, leaning forward to bite at Harry’s shoulder. “I’m going to fuck you like the little slut you are.”

The boy trembled as Tom pressed one last kiss to his feverish skin before he stood up and began a punishing pace. The boy’s squeals echoed in the room along with the sweet slap of flesh against flesh as Tom fucked him harshly. Tom grunted with exertion as he pounded into the boy, his balls tightening at the sight of Harry’s ass bouncing, the skirt hiked up around the boy’s tiny waist. He could feel his orgasm approaching fast and he hissed out a curse as he began to come, shooting deep inside Harry’s hot cunt. He collapsed on top of the boy and moaned in his ear, petting his legs, sides, and arms as he shuddered with aftershocks, his hips still thrusting sporadically for several minutes.

When he finally caught his breath, Tom pulled out and lifted himself off of Harry before reaching down for the black panties on the floor. He picked them up and gripped Harry’s ankles, guiding the boy’s heels back through the leg holes, then pulled the panties up Harry’s trembling legs. Tom snapped them into place over Harry’s ass, then leaned down over Harry’s limp body once more.

“I’d walk carefully if I were you,” Tom whispered into Harry’s ear. He rubbed the smooth fabric against Harry’s filled cunt, grinning as the boy twisted and whined faintly beneath him. “Wouldn’t want anything to leak out.” He gave Harry a final pat against his wet panties, then stood.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

 

*            *            *

 

Harry shuffled slowly down the hall in a weak stupor, his thighs pressed together, allowing only the tiniest of steps. He could feel Riddle’s release mixed with his own leftover arousal slowly seeping out of him as he moved, sogging up his panties. He was definitely going to have to ask Hermione to help him master the Vanishing Spell – he never realized how practical it was.

Harry was so distracted that he didn’t noticed Snape’s billowing robes rounding the corner. He almost bumped into the man as he had only a few nights ago, but he managed to stop in time, gasping and freezing guiltily.

Snape, clearly startled at seeing Harry again, blinked twice before composing himself. He glared suspiciously down at him.

“What are you doing out so late, Potter?”

“I had detention,” Harry lied quickly, his heart racing.

Snape’s black eyes bored into him. The squishy, damp feeling between Harry’s legs only seemed to intensify under the scrutiny and he clenched his opening tight. Harry could feel his face heating and he couldn’t help but fidget with his skirt hem.

“Again, Harry?” asked Snape with a raised eyebrow. “With Professor Riddle? This is becoming a worrying pattern.” He looked towards Riddle’s office door at the end of the hall and his lips thinned. “I would hate to think that you’re lying to me. Perhaps I should confirm that you indeed had detention?” He started to walk down the hall towards Riddle’s door.

“Don’t!” Harry shouted, not daring to move.

Snape turned slowly back to him and looked him over, his lip curling and his voice rising as he advanced back on Harry. “I thought not. I think it’s about time I informed your parents of your late-night wandering–”

Riddle’s office door swung open and the man stepped out into the corridor. Riddle observed them with a mildly annoyed expression, then leaned against the doorframe, his hands resting casually in his pockets.

“What’s all this commotion? I was hoping to get a bit of grading done.” He looked curiously around Snape at Harry as if just noticing him. “It’s a bit late to be out of your common room, Potter. Run along, it’s almost curfew.”

Harry nodded jerkily, his face burning and his eyes lowered. “Yes, sir,” he muttered, then he turned in place and walked as fast-paced as possible. He couldn’t resist looking over his shoulder as he got to the end of the corridor. Riddle and Snape were exchanging words, and Snape did not look pleased.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! Hope this smut made up for the longer than anticipated wait! As usual, I love comments.


	7. The Announcement

Harry woke up the next morning feeling energized, confident, and deliciously sore. It was not unlike the way he felt after an intense Quidditch practice, except that he felt…well, _sexy_. Not only had he lost his virginity a few days ago, but he’d had sex _again_ less than a week later, and in two new positions! Harry was practically advanced compared to his friends. He highly doubted Hermione had done more than kiss Viktor Krum last year, and he knew for a fact that Ron had yet to kiss anyone. Harry felt a bit smug as he observed his reflection in the mirror over his dresser. If only his friends knew what he’d been up to, how much he’d done in the past few days…but of course they could never know.

When Harry got dressed that morning, he was surprised to see his former uniform mixed in with his new clothes. Riddle was letting him choose how to present himself, and Harry let out a thankful sigh for the options. After a brief internal debate, he surprised himself and decided to keep the new uniform for now. Harry still hadn’t figured out if the purpose of the more feminine clothing was to humiliate him, assert dominance over him, or if they simply aroused Riddle (Harry supposed it could be a combination of all three), but if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really care about the answer. All he knew was that he felt good knowing Riddle’s eyes were on him. He also remembered Cedric Diggory – the recollection of the older boy running to catch up with him made him smile. It was quite flattering to know that the most popular, best-looking boy in the school thought he looked great in his short skirt and heels. Maybe Riddle was right… maybe the boys who had teased him all of yesterday had thought about him last night in their beds. Harry felt a twinge of excitement at the thought.

Once Harry had finished dressing for the day, he quickly left the common room without waiting for Ron or Hermione. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t deserve his attention until he received an apology. Instead of walking into the Great Hall with hunched shoulders and a frown, Harry strode confidently through the doors and down between the House tables with his shoulders back, chest lifted, and chin raised. He ignored the way the conversations seemed to get louder at his arrival and tossed his bag onto the Gryffindor table nonchalantly, sitting down across from Fred and George. They were watching him with identical grins.

“Good morning, your Majesty,” said George.

“Yes, to what do we owe this _pleasure_?” asked Fred with a friendly leer.

“Where’s our dear brother? Having a lie-in?”

“Ron has his head up his rear end,” said Harry lightly, reaching for toast.

“Does he not usually?” said Fred.

Harry rolled his eyes and placed his napkin in his lap. He tried not to notice how the cloth covered more of his legs than his skirt. “It’s not usually this bad.”

“Oh, look,” said George, nodding at someone behind Harry. “Seems he somehow managed to free himself of his head-in-arse predicament.”

Harry turned in his seat to see Ron approaching, looking contrite. Hermione was with him, nudging him forward.

“May we sit with you, Harry?” she asked politely once they’d reached him.

“Depends,” said Harry, watching Ron flinch with a bit of vindictive pleasure. “Are you sure you can afford to be seen with someone as _loose_ as myself?”

Ron cringed and shook his head despairingly. “I’m sorry about that, mate,” he said. “I was in the wrong…. I should have told all those wankers to bugger off. I should have defended you.”

“I’m sorry too, Harry,” said Hermione, her eyes bright.

Harry paused, watching them squirm for a moment as they awaited his judgment, then he shook his head and smiled softly, their remorse clear.

“It’s okay. Forget it. Sit down.” Harry patted the empty bench beside him, and his friends quickly sat and tucked in to their breakfast. Their grateful silence soon transformed into laughter as they recalled the more ridiculous behavior and comments Harry had endured the day before, Ron zealously describing how idiotic each boy was and how he’d repay them later. Harry felt truly happy, without any worries, for the first time since the school year had started.

 

*            *            *

 

Harry’s good mood didn’t last long. His first class of the day was Double Potions in the dungeons with the Slytherins. Potions was always a difficult class for him, particularly due to Draco Malfoy and his cronies making every effort to annoy him. The aristocratic blonde had always resented him for denying his hand of friendship when they’d met on the Hogwarts train in first year, and their rivalry had only escalated after the Remembrall incident during their first Flying lesson. Snape also was by no means pleasant. He didn’t openly mock Harry (his mother would never stand for that), but he was always rather scornful of his efforts, and he was especially harsh on Neville. Today was no exception, and Harry was eager to leave when the bell rang, but then Snape’s cold voice called out to him over the scuffle of everyone packing their bags.

“Potter, you will stay.”

Harry’s stomach clenched with a sense of foreboding. He had been hoping Snape wouldn’t say anything about him being out of his dorm last night but it seemed he would not be able to avoid the topic. Harry quickly exchanged exasperated looks with Ron so as to appear ignorant and Ron, eager to make up for yesterday’s bad behavior, scowled openly at Snape.

“Would you care to stay behind as well and arrange a night of scrubbing cauldrons, Weasley?”

“No, sir,” said Ron, getting up with defiant leisure, Hermione tugging furiously on his elbow. “We’ll see you at lunch, Harry.”

Harry nodded and busied himself with his bag. Snape remained silent until Ron and Hermione had left, then he stalked over to the door and slammed it shut before spinning to face him, robes swirling imposingly. Harry crossed his arms over his body.

“Wipe that sulk off your face, Potter, you’re not a child,” Snape said with a sneer, “As you seem so keen to prove with your evening extra-curricular activities and state of attire.”

Harry gaped in shock, a blush creeping up his neck. He blinked up at Snape through his glasses and tried to look politely confused. “I – I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

Snape scoffed, his lip curling with disdain as he moved to loom over Harry.

“Of course you don’t. Professor Riddle had no knowledge of why you were hanging about the other night or why you lied about having detention, but I do. Clearly you were on your way back from a late night rendezvous with some unlucky paramour. Tell me, Potter, would your mother be pleased to hear about her precious lion wandering the castle, dressed as you are?”

Harry was rapidly turning redder than Ron ever had. “I wasn’t _wandering_ –”

Snape swiftly reached into his robes and pulled out a small glass bottle with a dropper lid. Viscous magenta fluid glistened inside. Harry recognized the common potion instantly and recoiled, shoving himself backwards and away from Snape, his heart racing and palms sweating.

“I don’t need that.”

Snape observed him intensely, his eyes cold as he held the bottle over Harry’s head. “Are you sure about that, Potter?”

Harry swallowed and he tried to look innocent, but he could feel his cheeks suffusing with heat. “I’m sure. Besides, the Mediwizards said–”

“That was years ago, wasn’t it? When have you last been checked for fertility? Besides, _Finis Fertilis_ is not just a contraceptive; it protects you from possible infection as well. Your ignorance on this disturbs me.”

“Shut up!” Harry hissed, his heart thundering at the word ‘fertility’. “I don’t need-”

“Do not speak to me that way and do not make me fire-call your mother over this! Spare me from your lies!” Snape waved off Harry’s attempted protests. “I do not care who or how many students you are obviously gallivanting with after dark, but you should drink the entire dose once a month, every month that you are sexually active. This is a necessary precaution, not just for yourself but for your… _partners_.”

Harry shuddered and shook his head, mortified. Snape let out a snarl and slammed the bottle down on the desk, baring his teeth.

“Take. It.”

Harry hesitated for a few more seconds, then grabbed the bottle and stuffed it down to the very bottom of his bag.

“Come see me when you need more if you are too cowardly to ask Madam Pomfrey,” said Snape coldly. “Don’t let me catch you out of your common room after hours again. Now get out of my sight.”

Harry rushed for the door, his heart pounding in his ears.

 

*            *            *

 

Despite the humiliation and anxiety Snape had caused Harry, he did not stop seeing Riddle. Only a few days later Harry was able to give Hermione and Ron an excuse about studying on his own in the library and was sneaking back to Riddle’s office.

This time, Riddle lifted him onto the desk and pushed him to lean back as he had the first night, but instead of standing over him, the man sat in his chair and pulled Harry by his knees to the edge of the desk. Harry watched, leaning up on his elbows as Riddle slowly slid his hands up Harry’s legs, pushing his skirt up. The man hummed approvingly at the sight of his black satin panties (Harry had cleaned them and decided to wear them again), then kissed Harry once on each knee, peeled down the panties, and pushed his knees apart. Harry sat up a little more, uncertainty creeping in.

“What’re you doing?"

Riddle smirked at him. “Not the most imaginative, are you?” he murmured, nipping at Harry’s inner thigh. His large hands slid up to hold Harry’s legs open, cradling under his thighs, and his thumbs slipped up to stroke teasingly at Harry’s already wet opening. Harry shivered as he watched Riddle move his head forward and press a gentle kiss against his pussy. The man kissed and nuzzled him between his legs for several minutes and Harry was panting and struggling to hold himself still, then, completely unexpected to Harry, Riddle used his thumbs to spread his pussy lips and licked him inside.

Harry squeaked and wriggled, pushing frantically at Riddle’s head. “Wha – ugh – _oh!_ ”

Riddle lifted his chin and smiled up Harry’s stunned face.

“You taste delicious, Harry.”

Harry blushed and then Riddle was encouraging Harry to lie back down, and Harry found himself obeying without protest. The man placed one hand on Harry’s stomach and his other slipped under the small of Harry’s back, lifting him into an arched position, guiding Harry up and into his mouth. He then proceeded to lick, nibble, suck, and kiss Harry’s dripping pussy until Harry was shaking and humping at Riddle’s face in abandon. Riddle pulled away and chuckled softly, his lips wet with Harry’s slick, and he stroked a calming hand over Harry’s trembling thighs.

“You’re quite the little tart, aren’t you?”

Harry writhed in his hands, struggling to catch his breath. “You’re – _oh!_ You’re so mean!”

Riddle laughed against his opening, his warm breath tickling him. “I think I am being rather nice to you, Harry.”

Later, after his second orgasm of the night, as Harry lay limp and listened in a daze to the sound of Riddle growling and gulping ravenously between his legs, he decided that maybe Riddle was right.

 

*            *            *

 

The next several weeks flew by, and suddenly it was mid October. Harry spent his days going to class, studying with Ron and Hermione, slogging through Quidditch practices, and secretly meeting with Riddle any chance he could. It was much harder now that Snape suspected him of being out at night, but Riddle had begun to Disillusion him after they met, providing visual protection for his walks back to his common room. He still had to be careful though, and he had needed to hide from Filch and Peeves on more than one occasion. Harry still was not exactly sure how he felt about what he was doing. He knew it was wrong, he knew Riddle would be seen as some sort of villainous monster if their secret was ever discovered, but he wasn’t willing to stop. The sex was addicting, and Riddle was always in his thoughts, however subtle.

Two weeks before Halloween, Dumbledore stood up before their Sunday evening feast and spread his arms, signaling for quiet.

“Before we begin to lose ourselves in tonight’s delicious roast, I would like to share an exciting announcement for our older students. Due to the success of last year’s Yule Ball, I have decided that our Great Hall deserves another magnificent night of merriment. We are going to hold a Halloween Masquerade Ball on Hallow’s Eve for all students in fifth year and above!”

Enthused whispering swept through the hall, and Dumbledore continued with twinkling eyes. “I will personally be awarding prizes for the most clever, dazzling, and fearsome costumes!”

Professor McGonagall coughed in her seat and Dumbledore blinked and paused before nodding politely at her. “Yes, I am reminded that Professor McGonagall has asked me to impose a ban on the use of bodily Transfiguration.” Harry could swear the Headmaster looked a bit heartbroken as he said this while McGonagall gazed sternly out at them all with pinched lips. Fred and George grumbled.

“I cannot wait to be thoroughly amused, amazed, and alarmed by your creations! Now, tuck in!”

The Headmaster sat to a round of wild applause and their tables filled with food. Loud, excited chatter filled the Hall as the students discussed the costumes they might attempt, who Dumbledore may have booked for the entertainment, and what sort of prizes would be awarded. Harry noticed that there was also an undercurrent of intrigue as girls giggled with their heads together and boys cast furtive glances at them, just as they had last year for the Yule Ball. However, not everyone seemed to be excited. Harry watched as Ron, usually so intent on his meal, pushed his mashed potatoes around his plate morosely.

“Not sure what I’ll do… I can’t really afford to buy anything for a decent costume,” he muttered. “S’pose I could ask Fred and George if they have anything to let me borrow.”

“You could make something, Ron,” Hermione suggested.

“Yeah right,” said Ron, stabbing a carrot. “I’m no good with that.”

“Well what about you, Harry?” asked Hermione. “Any ideas?”

Harry shrugged. “Not really. Something easy. I don’t really care about the prizes.”

“Think maybe you’ll ask anyone to go with you?” Hermione asked with a coy smile.

Ron began to violently cough next to him, and Harry turned and patted him on the back, grateful for the distraction. Harry hadn’t even thought about asking anyone and the idea was suddenly making his stomach churn. His eyes shifted unwillingly up to the teachers’ table. Riddle was there, calmly eating his meal and talking with Professor Sinistra. Harry blinked and inwardly shook himself. That idea was preposterous.

“Er, no, I hadn’t thought – I mean, we don’t have to, right? It’s not like the Yule Ball where couples have to dance or anything, is it?”

Ron finally seemed to gain control over his wheezing and he gulped down a swig of pumpkin juice. “It bloody better not be!”

“Well, maybe someone will ask _you_ ,” said Hermione challengingly, glaring at Ron. “Then what would you do?”

Ron blushed and put down his goblet.

“Oh, um, maybe…I dunno.”

Hermione sniffed, unimpressed, then turned away from them and quickly engaged in conversation with Ginny on her other side. Harry and Ron sat there, both in their own heads as they ate, chewing silently.

 

*            *            *

 

That night, as Harry lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he wondered what it would be like to go to the ball with someone. He’d gone stag with Ron to the Yule Ball last year, and it had been a bit of a disaster what with Hermione and Ron’s ugly shouting match afterwards, but the dance itself had been fun. Who would he ask, if he had to? He couldn’t go with Riddle, obviously. The man was his professor – he couldn’t go with him.

The face of Cedric Diggory floated into his mind, and Harry flushed with an unusual feeling of betrayal as he began to imagine what that would be like. Cedric had opened the Yule Ball last year with Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, and he had looked the epitome of handsome in his formal dress robes as he danced gracefully around the room. What if Cedric asked him? The idea wasn’t entirely ridiculous… the Head Boy had complimented Harry’s outfit, Hermione had mentioned he’d broken up with Cho… Harry’s heart sped up a little at the thought of walking into the Hall, displayed on Cedric’s strong, capable arm. What would everyone think? What would it be like to dance with him? The older boy was tall, almost as tall as Riddle, but much more muscular and broad-shouldered. Harry’s thoughts became rather wicked as he wondered if the same applied elsewhere. Was the older boy’s cock as long as Riddle’s? Would it be thicker, like the boy himself? Harry felt his pussy clench and he bit his lip guiltily. If anyone knew… if Cedric found out what he was thinking….

_If Riddle found out…_

The fantasy crashed through his head and his hand was between his legs, his fingers stroking and parting his wet folds before he could stop himself. He groaned and arched into his fingers, ashamed at how wet he was at the thought of Riddle seeing him with Cedric, of Cedric touching him, maybe kissing him in front of the man. Harry whimpered as he imagined Riddle snarling and tearing him away from the older boy. He could feel the phantom pressure of Riddle’s strong fingers digging punishingly into his hips, pulling his hair, grabbing at his ass possessively. Harry’s fingers slipped easily in and out of his cunt, and he stroked his cock desperately with his other hand as he imagined Riddle kissing him, ripping his clothes off, then claiming him for himself in front of Cedric and everyone else. They would all be so shocked, so amazed at the sight of the man fucking him, right there on the dance floor… then Riddle would come deep inside him, hold him tight, and whisper in his ear that Harry was his, that Harry belonged to him…

Harry came with a startled cry.

It took several minutes for Harry’s ragged breathing to return to normal, and he wiped his slick fingers on his sheets and dragged a hand over his sweaty face, mentally replaying his wild thoughts with a clearer head.

 _'Yeah, right’,_ Harry thought with an exasperated puff of breath, adjusting his pillows and turning on his side, curling his legs. _‘Nothing like that would ever happen….'_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are like cookies! They fuel me!


	8. A Halloween Masquerade

The two weeks leading up to Halloween passed in a blur. Harry and the rest of the fifth years had never experienced a midterm period as stressful as this one. Professors were piling on the papers and pop quizzes, and the library was always filled to capacity with busy students bent over books, the sounds of scratching quills and frantic page turning breaking the tense silence. For Harry and Ron, the workload was even harder to manage – the first Quidditch match of the season would be during the first weekend of November, and their workload coupled with the grueling practices run by Angelina Johnson left Harry completely exhausted. He didn’t have any spare time at all to see Riddle. Harry couldn’t help but think that the man didn’t seem as upset as Harry felt about this. He had expected Riddle to at least hold him back after class but he never did, and Harry had to talk himself out of getting detention on purpose in order to see him. Late at night, as he lay in bed, Harry wondered if maybe Riddle was losing interest in him.

While Harry’s relationship – if one could even call it that – with Riddle seemed to be diminishing, another was growing. His best friends thought no one noticed, but Harry sensed the budding romance between Ron and Hermione. Ron was being unusually polite towards Hermione lately, asking for her opinions on his work instead of simply asking to copy hers, and Hermione was much less critical towards Ron, even offering to help him with his costume. Neither of them had yet to ask the other to be their official date to the Masquerade, but Harry had a feeling they would be spending it together. Harry, despite his fantasy a few weeks prior of going with Cedric Diggory, had decided not to ask anyone, and resolutely planned on having as much fun as possible at the Ball alone.

 

*            *            *

 

At eight o’clock on Halloween after the younger students had their feast, Harry and the rest of his year mates proceeded to the Great Hall, eager for the Masquerade to begin. Harry was in a good mood – all of his midterm work had been turned in on time, and he was satisfied with his efforts, certain that he would at least earn an ‘Acceptable’ on all of his papers, even History of Magic. Ron was also easily in a better state than he had been for last year’s Yule Ball, most likely due to the absence of Viktor Krum and the lack of required dress robes. Ron practically swaggered as they walked, looking like a very convincing battered Quidditch player. Hermione had helped him adjust his uniform so that it appeared to be torn and grass-stained, and she had also helped him create the illusion of a bloody and bruised face without actually harming him. Hermione glowed next to him as a fairy princess, her curls tamed and framing her face attractively under a sparkling tiara. She had also crafted a pair of magnificent opalescent wings that appeared to sprout from her back, and charmed golden butterflies followed her every move. Harry hoped she would be recognized for her skills.

Harry, not aiming to win any awards, was pleased with his simple costume of a black cat. He wore slim fitting black trousers and a black shirt, and Hermione had helped him add sleek ebony fur to boots, gloves, and an attached tail. Harry was especially proud of a headband he’d constructed with attached cat ears that twitched realistically. Dean, who was known for his drawings, had painted whiskers and a cat nose onto his face.

The Great Hall doors were open when they arrived with smoke and rock music billowing out into the entrance hall. They crossed the threshold and they all murmured appreciatively, pointing at the decorations. Magnificent carved pumpkins hovered above them providing glowing light, and live bats flew in the air while ravens perched on the window ledges and cawed down at them. The House tables had vanished and instead a large golden dance floor occupied the space, and the staff table had been replaced with a stage for performers that currently hosted a band dressed as skeletons in top hats and coattails. Small circular tables were stationed around the borders of the room, topped with black roses and ornate skull centerpieces that flickered with candles. A long thin table ran the length of one side of the hall, laden with bite-sized food. A towering fountain was centered in the middle of the table, flowing with sparkling purple punch.

The teachers were already there, and Harry grinned when he noticed their costumes. All of them appeared to be wearing their standard robes but had simply added masks or ears. The exception was a jubilant Headmaster Dumbledore. The bearded wizard was dressed in bright yellow and black striped robes and wore goggles that resembled bulging bug eyes. Two bobbing antennae waved out of his hat, and large insect wings buzzed behind him. Harry spotted McGonagall standing rigidly next to him with a pair of grey cat ears coming out of her hat, and Snape was reluctantly putting on a black eye mask in the shape of a bat as Dumbledore nudged him encouragingly. Little Professor Flitwick was beaming with large white bunny ears and a fluffy cottontail pinned to the back of his robes. Hermione had to stifle a fit of giggles at the sight of him.

Harry couldn’t stop himself from seeking out Riddle, and he swallowed when he caught sight of the man. The professor was wearing a half-mask that resembled a serpent’s head and the half of the man’s mouth that Harry could see was lifted in a small smirk. A gaggle of older Syltherin girls tottered past Riddle in ridiculous heels and various barely-there ensembles, giggling and whispering as they stared. Harry wondered suddenly if he should have worn a costume like them. Would Riddle think his costume was too boring? That he wasn’t sexy enough? Was that why Riddle hadn’t met with him in two weeks? Was Harry not enough for him anymore?

“Can you three keep a secret?”

Harry jumped and turned to see that Fred and George had arrived. They were dressed as the front and back ends of a Hippogriff, but they were currently separated, their faces poking out of their respective ends.

“We’re gonna spike the punch,” said George with a wink.

“Shouldn’t be telling these two perfect _prefects_ ,” said Fred with a challenging stare at Ron and Hermione. “They might tattle.”

Ron flushed and seemed torn.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Just don’t let anyone see you!” she hissed quietly, staring obviously away from them and she gripped Ron’s arm, pulling him aside. Ron flushed even more deeply. Harry felt a stab of jealousy, but he stamped it down and turned to the twins, grateful for an excuse to get away.

“I’ll cover you, just give me the first drink, alright?”

Fred and George grinned and nodded, then joined together and began their ungainly walk to the punch bowl. Harry followed, weaving after them through the crowd. He stood in front of the twins once they got to the fountain, nodding and smiling at the students who were milling around the food. Some of them clearly were hoping to win an award. Luna Lovegood had an entire fake swan on her head that snapped its beak at passing students and she had painted herself a murky blue-green to resemble a lake. Seamus Finnegan was dressed head to toe in green as a Leprechaun. Dean was dressed as an American muggle cowboy, and was currently explaining his outfit to Neville, who was dressed as a Devil’s Snare. Harry noticed Draco Malfoy and his gang standing in the corner by the stage. They were all dressed as dirty looking cavemen, and they were laughing uproariously. Harry wondered what that was about, an uneasy feeling twisting in his stomach.

“Done!” George announced from inside the Hippogriff costume, bumping into him. “Here, as promised.” A freckled hand reached out through the open beak, offering Harry a cup brimming with purple punch.

“There’s an extra shot in there for you,” said Fred’s voice from the back end of the Hippogriff. Harry couldn’t see his wicked smile but he knew it was there.

“Thanks,” said Harry, drinking as quickly as he could, his nose scrunching at the burn. He watched as Ron and Hermione began to dance together, smiling shyly at one another. Something in Harry’s chest tightened. He peeked over the brim of his cup at Riddle, who was now across the room. The man hadn’t so much as glanced at him yet, and even though Harry knew logically that it would be extremely unwise for his professor to interact with him at the dance, he wasn’t feeling particularly understanding at the moment. He refilled his cup and drank deeply, a reckless feeling sweeping through him.

So, Riddle was ignoring him, was he?

Harry finished his second cup of spiked punch, then marched onto the dance floor, aiming determinedly for a group of rowdy looking older boys dressed as pirates.

 

*            *            *

 

Harry lost count of how many drinks were pressed into his hand throughout the night. The music seemed to swell in his ears and Harry raised his arms over his head, dancing without inhibition. A vampire, devil, and a rather strapping gargoyle were dancing by him closely, their arms pumping to the music. A hand touched his shoulder.

“Harry? Is that you?”

Harry spun unsteadily and blinked as Cedric Diggory came into focus. The older boy was standing before him dressed as a Dragon Tamer, complete with dragonhide boots and gauntlets. He’d also added a realistic looking scar on his face that gave his usual good-boy looks an edgy appeal.

“Hey, Cedric,” Harry called over the music, his hips swaying. “Nice costume!”

“Thanks. I like yours too,” said Cedric, his grey eyes lingering on Harry’s twitching ears and tail. “May I join you?”

“Sure,” said Harry with an easy laugh, backing up to allow Cedric into their group. The other boys – Harry wasn’t sure who they were – shifted slightly as well, and Harry found himself in the middle of the four of them. He smiled happily at their attention and threw his body into the music.

“I didn’t know you were such a good dancer.”

Harry opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them, at the sound of Cedric’s voice in his ear.

“I’m not,” he scoffed, swatting at Cedric’s broad chest, hitting him a little harder than he’d meant to. Cedric laughed and leaned down to speak into his ear again.

“Teach me how you move like that,” he said, attempting to match Harry’s swivels and dips, his gaze on Harry’s shifting waist.

Harry chuckled, his cheeks heating. “It’s just like sex, but standing up,” he said brazenly, his tongue working faster than his brain. “Isn’t that what everyone says?”

“Is it?” asked Cedric, stepping even closer, his voice low. For some reason, this made the other boys move closer too. Harry could feel their bodies brushing against him. He suddenly wanted so badly to be touched, and he didn’t really care by whom. He tossed his head back and leaned against the body behind him. He felt strong, unknown hands on his hips. He sighed and arched into the touch.

"That will do, gentlemen.”

 

*            *            *

 

“As Head Boy, it is your responsibility to set an example for your fellow students,” said Tom, glaring down at Diggory, his hand fisted in the neck of Harry’s shirt. The other boys had vanished quickly into the crowd, but Diggory remained, looking mortified. “Can you not see that this _underage_ student is clearly inebriated?” Tom jostled Harry slightly for emphasis, ignoring the boy’s protesting whine.

“I – I didn’t realize, sir,” said Diggory, looking stricken and pale.

“Go attend to the matter – take points if necessary,” Tom barked. “Clearly he has been intoxicated by the drink and he isn’t the only one. For Merlin’s sake, don’t just stand there, Diggory, get on with it!”

The seventh year nodded, face pinched, and he turned and hurried towards the punch bowl. Tom began to drag Harry out of the Hall, nodding curtly at a disappointed looking McGonagall, who was drawing her wand and also moving towards the snack table. No one else seemed to be paying them much attention, and Tom was able to remove Harry from the Hall without any delay. He began to head towards the hospital wing, but he had no intention of going there.

“Get – off – me!“ Harry was resisting his hold, twisting under his grip and dragging his feet as they walked.

“So you want to be punished now instead of later, do you?” Tom hissed. He had meant to get to his office, but his cock was growing too hard to wait, already leaking in his pants. Any abandoned room would do at this point.

Tom drew his wand and unlocked the nearest door. He didn’t know what class met in the empty classroom behind it, nor did he care. He shoved a squawking Harry inside and he followed and slammed the door shut before locking it and casting a silencing charm. He turned towards Harry, who was wiping at his eyes and sniffling. Tom pulled off his serpent mask and let it drop to the floor, then began to undo his robes.

“You – you _bastard_ ,” Harry cried, backing away. Tom advanced on him with a growl and pushed him against the nearest desk with a jarring bump.

“And what does that make you, Harry?” asked Tom, weaving his fingers into Harry’s silky hair and yanking his head back. “A little slut?”

Harry struck at his chest. Tom caught his hands and brought them to his mouth, nipping hard on the tips of the boy’s gloved fingers. Harry gasped and immediately arched into him, pressing his hips forward.

“Your costume is quite fitting,” Tom whispered down into Harry’s ear before biting it. “You were like a cat in heat, displaying yourself for those boys, begging for them to touch you.”

Harry moaned and shook his head. Tom shoved his thigh between the boy’s legs, pressing harsh kisses to Harry’s bared neck and speaking against his sweaty skin. “Yes, you were rubbing yourself all over them. They would have taken their turns with you and you would have let them, drunk as you are. Or maybe you don’t need the drink to spread your legs?”

Harry writhed against him. Tom could feel the boy’s heat through his trousers. “Stop! _I wasn’t_ –”

“Oh yes, you were,” Tom snarled, grabbing Harry’s hips and turning him roughly. He reached around the boy and undid his trousers before shoving them down Harry’s thighs, pressing biting kisses into the back of his neck. He reached between Harry’s legs and groaned as he cupped the boy’s hot cunt through his damp underwear. Tom pulled the fabric aside and pressed his fingers into Harry’s soaked slit and the boy eagerly mounted his hand and arched, pressing his ass back against Tom’s cock even as he whimpered out protests.

“What a naughty kitty you are, getting so wet,” Tom murmured, holding Harry close and fingering him open. “Or were you already wet for the Diggory boy?”

Harry gasped and tried to jerk away but Tom yanked his underwear down and gripped the flesh of Harry’s thigh, lifting the boy’s knee up onto the desk so that his cunt was stretched open for him. He rubbed at the boy’s exposed hole with his fingers then gave it a smack. Harry squeaked and bucked.

“I think you were,” said Tom, gripping his own cock and spanking it against Harry’s pussy. He moaned as he felt it catch and he rubbed the tip of his cock into the boy’s dripping slick. “I think you wanted him to touch you, Harry. Do you wish it was him doing this to you?”

Harry sobbed, his hips undulating, seemingly trying to get away from Tom and be fucked simultaneously.

“You’ll just have to make do with me,” Tom snarled, biting into Harry’s neck and thrusting inside without warning.

Harry choked on a scream. Tom sucked at Harry’s pale skin, holding the boy’s slim hips still as he fucked up into his tight cunt. He was consumed with the need to mark himself upon the boy as much as he could, inside and out. Dangerous thoughts entered his head. He wanted everyone to know that Harry was taken, that Tom’s cock owned his sweet boy pussy, that the boy got sopping wet for him and moaned like a whore. He slid one hand down to support Harry’s thigh and he held the boy’s throat with his other, covering the side of Harry’s face with kisses and licking up his salty tears. Harry turned his head and caught his tongue with his own, and then they were kissing, deep and hungry.

 _“You are mine,”_ Tom whispered heatedly, tightening his hand around Harry’s bruised throat. Harry mewled and Tom felt the sudden clenching spasms of the boy’s orgasm around his cock. A flood of liquid rushed out of the boy’s pussy, slicking his entrance even further for Tom. He groaned and plunged up into Harry again and again, his balls tightening, and then he emptied himself deep inside Harry as he came. The boy shuddered and his body sank into Tom’s embrace.

Tom continued to thrust sporadically for a few moments, holding the boy tightly as they both shook through their orgasms. Eventually they slid to the floor. Tom leaned back against the desk and held Harry close in his lap, his cock still inside him.

 

*            *            *

 

Harry didn’t open his eyes for several minutes, the sound of their breathing heavy in the air. Riddle shifted slightly and he felt the man’s softened cock slip out of him, some of their release leaking out and down his thighs. Harry bit his lip at the sudden empty feeling. He didn’t want this to end quite yet and he refused to move unless Riddle pushed him away. He heard Riddle’s robes rustle and he opened his eyes to see the man reaching for his wand.

“Your costume, while perfectly adorable, is missing something,” said Riddle quietly. Harry noticed that the man’s voice was a bit hoarse and his chest swelled with shy pride. He’d done that…

Riddle began to wave his wand in a lazy, small circle. The air shimmered in its wake and an acid-green snakeskin collar with silver buckles began to materialize from the tip. Harry stared, mesmerized, as Riddle plucked it from the air and cast another silent spell with a tap. A silver tag appeared on the collar, glowing letters engraving themselves into the metal. Riddle passed it to Harry once it was finished and Harry held it carefully, his cheeks coloring.

“What does it say, Harry?”

Harry took a deep breath before reading slowly, “It says ‘I belong to TMR’.” Harry traced the engraved letters with the tip of his finger. “T-M-R?”

“My name. Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

Harry blinked up at the man, his eyes wide. “Tom?” he whispered.

Riddle – no, _Tom_ – stroked a few wisps of hair out of his eyes. “Yes, Harry?”

Harry leaned into his hand and his heart fluttered at the caress. “Oh… do I… should I call you that, then?”

The man named Tom waved his wand and the collar slithered out of Harry’s hands and up his body to twine around his neck, fastening itself with a soft click. Harry’s breath hitched. Tom's eyes flashed with heat. "When we are alone, you may call me that," he murmured.

Harry reached up and fingered the collar around his neck, his lips forming a tiny pout. “And when will that be? It was two whole weeks since last time… why didn’t you try to see me at all?”

Tom massaged the back of his skull, smiling slightly as Harry leaned into the touch. “You had midterms, Harry. You needed to focus on that, did you not? By the way,” he continued, stroking the back of Harry’s neck, “You got an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ on your paper for me.”

Harry’s eyes, which had been drifting closed, flew open. “I did?”

Tom nodded. “You did. I was impressed.” Harry blushed and ducked his head. “Tell me, Harry, would you have done as well if I had distracted you?”

Harry shrugged. “Probably not,” he admitted.

Tom stroked the snakeskin scales of the collar with a long finger before tapping it lightly.

“I hope any notions of seeking attention elsewhere have been sorted?”

Harry inhaled sharply and looked back up at Tom. “I didn’t – I wasn’t going to–”

“Hush,” said Tom, and he cupped Harry’s chin and pulled him in for a deep kiss, tongue plundering his mouth possessively, and Harry easily surrendered.

 

*            *            *

 

Later, once Harry was safe in his bed, he played with the collar in his hands. He wondered if it was wrong that he secretly wished he could wear it in public. He read the engraved words for about the tenth time, then smiled.

“ _Tom_ ,” he whispered in the dark, trying the name out on his tongue. He decided that he liked the sound of it very much.

Harry yawned. He desperately needed to sleep, and he was still feeling the effects of the punch. Harry hid the collar in his bedside drawer along with his black satin panties, then he snuggled down into his bed, exhausted but happy.

‘ _Tom and Harry…’_ he thought, smiling and dropping off to sleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a happy Easter if you celebrate! I love comments, and I would love to hear your thoughts! Hehe what do you think will happen next?


	9. Sinister Serpents

Harry barely remembered falling asleep that night. He awoke with gummy eyes and a fuzzy headache, and he blearily staggered out of bed for the pitcher of water by the window to quench his parched throat. He had just finished gulping down his second glass when he heard a sharp rapping at the door. Wincing, he stumbled over and yanked it open, still dressed in his sleep clothes. Hermione stood on the other side looking frazzled.

“Harry, you’ve completely missed breakfast! You can’t lay about all day! You’re lucky morning classes were canceled because of the Ball, we–,” Hermione stopped short and her mouth dropped. Her eyes widened and her face started to turn pink. Harry scratched at his messy hair and snapped rather grumpily, “What?”

Hermione’s voice was timid and squeaky. “Erm…” she raised a hand and pointed at Harry’s neck. “What are those from, Harry?”

Harry clapped a hand to his neck in horror. He had no idea what his skin looked like, but he could guess. Hazy memories of Riddle – no, _Tom_ – ravaging his neck last night in an abandoned classroom swirled in his head.

“Er – nothing,” he said dumbly.

Hermione raised a skeptical brow. “Those bruises say otherwise. Did that happen at the Ball? Was it Cedric Diggory?”

“What? No!” Harry shouted, flushing and tugging up his shirt, which must have done little to hide the purple and red marks based on Hermione’s unimpressed expression. She refused to let it go, her hands on her hips.

“I saw you two dancing last night – actually, a lot of people saw–”

“Hermione!”

She threw her arms up in the air. “Well if it wasn’t Cedric, then who was it?”

Harry was rapidly beginning to feel dizzy and panicked. She couldn’t know. No one could ever know, or Tom would get sacked, maybe even _imprisoned_ …

Harry was suddenly afraid he might vomit all over Hermione’s shoes.

“It was no one – er…to be honest, I’m not sure who it was,” Harry improvised wildly, backing away and heading for his wardrobe. “Everyone had masks on, didn’t they? And I was drunk so… it could have been anybody, couldn’t it?”

Hermione blinked and frowned as she watched him pull potential hickey-concealing outfits out of his dresser and toss them on his bed haphazardly.

“Well, we were all a bit tipsy, thanks to Fred and George…,” she said finally. “But you really can’t remember who it was? Really, Harry, you need to be careful! What if something else had happened?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” said Harry, not really listening and instead staring in dismay at his shirts.

Hermione sniffed. “If you _know_ , then you should also know I can get rid of those bruises for you if you want. It’s a simple charm, really.”

Harry stopped fussing with his clothes. He hadn’t even considered healing the marks away, although it seemed like the obvious solution now… and yet…

Harry knew logically that the best thing – the least suspicious thing – would be to let Hermione charm the bruises away, and yet he didn’t want her to. He hadn’t even gotten a good look at them yet… he wanted to see the proof of what Tom had done, of what they were….

Hermione sighed. “Do you want Ron and the others taking the mickey out of you or not?

Harry shuddered. He did not need to be pestered and mocked by Ron, the twins, or anyone else. “Alright, fine, do it,” he said. He walked over to Hermione and stood in front of her stiffly.

Hermione pointed her wand at the marks and said, _“Episkey!”_

Harry felt a mildly cool sensation on his neck. Hermione repeated the spell a few more times on some of the particularly stubborn bruises and by the time she was done, Harry was shivering.

“Bit cold, that spell.”

“I’ve only just learned it!” said Hermione defensively. “At least you’re not looking like you got chewed on by Fang anymore.”

“It’s fine,” said Harry, rubbing his arms. “Thank you…”

Hermione nodded in response, then began rattling off orders. “Well, have a quick shower, comb your hair, get yourself sorted, and we’ll meet you in the common room for lunch. I won’t say anything to the others about the – erm – bruises.”

“Right,” said Harry.

“And… well, the others might tease you about Cedric and the rest of the boys you danced with,” Hermione added quickly, turning for the door.

“Great,” said Harry, resigned. Then he blinked.

“Wait – _the rest_?”

 

*            *            *

 

“Well, well, if it isn’t Harry the Heartbreaker,” Fred sniggered once Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat down for lunch. The Great Hall was emptier than usual – clearly Harry hadn’t been the only one affected by Fred and George’s boozy punch.

“Shove off,” Harry muttered, already blushing. He reached for a tureen of steaming oxtail soup and busied himself with the ladle, serving the others as they sat on either side of him.

“It’s your own fault, mate, no one told you to drink all that,” said Ron, grinning wryly at him. He turned to his brothers. “What exactly did you put in the bowl last night, by the way?”

George winked and mimed zipping his lips. “It’s a secret Weasley concoction.”

“We might try to sell it someday, can’t be giving the recipe out,” said Fred.

“Hey, I’m family!” said Ron.

“Just barely,” said Fred with a laugh. “And we may have to disown you anyway if we lose this match against Slytherin.”

Harry winced. He had practically forgotten that the first match of the Quidditch season was that weekend.

“Speaking of Slytherins,” said Hermione darkly. “Did any of you hear what everyone’s been saying about Malfoy and his gang’s costumes last night?”

The others shook their heads. Harry began to sip at his soup, grateful that he was no longer the topic of conversation.

“They were dressed up as cavemen,” Hermione began, stabbing at her buttered turnips angrily. “You saw them, covered in dirt and fur, rattling their bone clubs…. But apparently they were meant to be–” She paused and inhaled deeply, clearly emotional, then exhaled shakily through her nose and continued, “Muggles and Muggle-borns.”

“ _What?_ ” Harry demanded, practically dropping his spoon. His mother was Muggle-born, as was Hermione, but even if they weren’t he still would have been appalled.

“Disgusting,” said Fred, his nose wrinkled.

“How do you know?” asked Ron.

“Heard it from Lavender and Parvati, and Parvati heard it from her sister in Ravenclaw. They’re horrible, absolutely vile, and they think they’re so _clever!_ ” Hermione hissed, her cheeks burning. “They’re getting away with it of course.”

“Scum, the lot of them,” said Ron, glaring over at the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was holding court as usual, his cronies laughing at something he must have said.

“We’ll crush them on Saturday,” said George with a sneer, his fist clenching around his fork.

Harry nodded firmly in agreement, but he glanced up at the Staff table. Tom was there, talking with McGonagall in what looked like a quite civil, pleasant conversation.

 _'Not all Slytherins are scum,’_ Harry thought.

 

*            *            *

 

The first Quidditch match of the season was a blustery, brutal affair. Icy wind whistled in Harry’s ears and his hair was blown into his eyes as he searched the dark clouds and stadium for the Snitch. The ominous grey sky was the perfect backdrop for the savageness of the Slytherin team. It could have been his imagination, but Harry thought they seemed especially ruthless this year. Harry spent most of the match dodging and rolling on his broom as Bludger after Bludger was aimed his way. At one point, one of the black balls collided with his thigh and almost knocked him from the air, but Harry managed to hang on, clinging upside down to his Firebolt as the crowd groaned and cheered.

After an hour of rough play had passed, Harry spotted the Snitch hovering close to the ground in the middle of the pitch. The Gryffindor team was only ten points ahead and the Slytherin team wasn’t letting up. Harry dove, flattening himself against his broom handle, the screams of the crowd barely registering. He saw Malfoy begin his own descent on the other side of the field and Harry urged his Firebolt even faster, determined to beat Malfoy, eager to see the smirk wiped off the blonde’s pointed face after hearing what he’d done at the Ball. He reached the Snitch several seconds before Malfoy and snagged the golden ball out of the air with ease. Harry let out a triumphant yell and began to pull up, his toes skimming the grass. The whistle sounded, then–

_WHAM!_

Malfoy had crashed into him. Harry was knocked clear off his broom, slamming into the ground and landing flat on his back. Malfoy fell hard on top of him, knocking the breath from his lungs.

“Whoops,” Malfoy snarled above him. Harry gasped for breath underneath him as Malfoy shoved himself off of Harry, the blonde making sure to press his hands punishingly down into Harry’s shoulders as he moved to get up. Harry could hear the yells of his teammates as they landed around them and Madam Hooch’s shrill whistling. He didn’t believe for a second that the crash had been accidental and he lay there on the ground coughing as Malfoy got to his feet.

“That will do, Malfoy!” Madam Hooch reprimanded, landing beside them and pulling the blonde back by his Quidditch robes. “Gryffindor wins, two-hundred and ten points to fifty!”

“That was deliberate!” Angelina Johnson shouted, landing hard and pointing an accusing finger at Malfoy as Ron and Ginny helped a still winded Harry to his feet.

“Prove it,” Malfoy hissed.

“Twenty points from Slytherin for the late hit and baiting, Malfoy,” said Madam Hooch sharply. Malfoy scowled. Montague, the Slytherin captain, landed near them and Hooch turned to the hulking Chaser.

“Be grateful your Seeker is not banned from the next game, Montague! Off with the both of you before I change my mind!”

Montague nodded and jerked his head at Malfoy, who gave them all one last sneer before turning and following his captain off the field.

 

*            *            *

 

Harry stood under the stream of the shower, checking his forming bruises in peace. He hadn’t asked for use of his own locker space, but just as he had been given a seperate dorm room that year, he had also been given access to the umpire’s office shower and changing room, and he certainly appreciated the privacy it afforded him now.

Harry was inspecting the large purpling welt on his thigh from where the Bludger had hit when he heard the bathroom door bang open. The shower curtain was jerked to the side and Harry hurried to cover himself, wiping his wet hair out of his eyes. He didn’t have his glasses on but he could easily recognize the white-blonde hair of Malfoy. The three massive forms standing with him could only be Crabbe, Goyle, and the Slytherin captain, Montague.

“Well, well, Potter… enjoying your special treatment?”

Harry glared through the water, his hands cupping protectively between his legs. He tried to stand up straight to show he wasn’t afraid, and he kept his back against the wall. “Four against one, Malfoy? That’s hardly fair… but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by a bunch of Slytherins?”

Montague barked out a laugh. “Thought you liked four-on-one, Potter?”

Harry blinked at the water in his eyes, shifting his gaze to the burly Chaser. He’d never heard Montague speak before. The older boy’s voice was rough and clipped. Montague snorted like a bull, and the air suddenly felt charged with something that made Harry’s heart speed up unpleasantly.

“Saw you at the Ball,” said Montague gruffly. He stepped forward and Harry automatically shrank back further against the shower wall. The older boy was easily a head taller than him, with a thick neck and hairy forearms. “You saw me too. Don’t you recognize me?”

Crabbe and Goyle chortled stupidly. Malfoy stepped back and waved his wand to lock the door and then he leaned against the changing room wall lazily as if he was settling in to watch a show.

“I was the gargoyle you danced with,” Montague continued. He took another step forward, so close now that he was in danger of getting sprayed with water. His bulk blocked out the light of the office. Harry could no longer see the other boys behind him. “You liked four-on-one then. You liked it a lot.”

“Get out,” said Harry, beginning to shake in anger.

Montague took another step. He was in the shower stall now. He was close enough that Harry could clearly see his face. The older boy had murky brown eyes, a square jaw, and a broad nose.

“Are you deaf as well as dumb?” said Harry through gritted teeth, refusing to show fear. “I said, _get out_.”

Montague smiled nastily and his eyes roamed down Harry’s body, stopping to rest between Harry’s thighs. He licked at his lips and grunted, “Let’s have some fun first, Potter.”

The door blasted open. Montague spun away from him and Harry gasped in relief. Tom stood there with his wand pointed at all of them.

“ _Out. Now_ ,” Tom hissed. The four Slytherin boys flinched as though he had shouted, and they all hurried to slink out past the professor. Harry dashed for his glasses resting just outside of the shower on the locker room bench and he jammed them on, then he reached for a towel and hurriedly wrapped it around his waist. He looked up just in time to catch Montague leaving. The older boy turned his head and winked at him from behind Tom’s back before he disappeared from sight. Harry growled in outrage and moved to go for his wand.

“Leave it, Potter!”

Harry froze in shock.

_What?_

Harry stared up at Tom, his mouth open in confusion and his heart banging in his chest. Why was Tom yelling at him? Why was he not chasing down and throttling Montague, or at least taking points, or doing something – _anything_ – to punish the others?

Tom gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, his mouth tight. “I need to escort them to Snape’s office. Get to your common room, Potter. Don’t dawdle.”

Then he turned and left, leaving Harry standing alone in the umpire’s office, blinking furiously as his eyes began to sting.

 

*            *            *

 

When Harry arrived to his room several hours later, after numbly participating in a celebratory party in the Gryffindor common room, there was a note on his pillow. Harry picked it up and read silently:

_"Please come see me, Harry. What I want to say will be easier in person than in words."_

 

*            *            *

 

“So, what’s so hard about writing ‘I’m sorry’?”

Tom surveyed the sulking teen in front of him for a moment, then he sighed and sat heavily in his chair. He motioned for Harry to sit as well.

“No thanks.”

Tom glared up at him. “Stop acting like a child.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to look at him. “Technically I am a child since I’m not sixteen yet. Which makes you a criminal. Just so you know.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Are you threatening me, Harry?”

“No,” said Harry quickly. “I’m just saying.”

Tom sat back in his chair, unimpressed. “It’s late Harry. While I appreciate your reminder, I can assure you that I am well aware of our legal system. Besides, you are no child to me, not after what I’ve seen you do. Now, sit down,” he snapped, finally losing his patience.

Harry walked forward to sit rigidly in the chair in front of Tom’s desk, his arms still crossed and his eyes lowered. They sat in silence for a moment. Harry toed at the floor with his sneakers.

“I know you are upset about today,” said Tom finally. “You wanted me to defend you, to be your gallant hero.”

The boy bit his bottom lip and looked away. Tom narrowed his eyes. Surely Harry could understand the position he was in?

“Any action beyond what I did in that moment would have aroused suspicion. Crabbe and Goyle may be idiots, but Montague and Malfoy are not.”

“Don’t know about that,” Harry muttered, still looking off to the side.

“I am regretful that you were embarrassed by their actions,” said Tom slowly. Obviously he needed to spell the facts out for the boy. “But you should be grateful that I arrived when I did. I prevented anything further from happening.”

Harry continued to pout. Tom gripped the chair armrests in frustration, then continued. “I believe a ‘thank you’ is in order, Harry. They would have been quite cruel…believe me, I know my House.”

“You’re not the Head of Slytherin House, Snape is,” said Harry rudely.

Tom felt a stab of true anger, and his long fingers flexed. He breathed out through his nose, then said quietly, “Yes, but I was a Slytherin, Harry. Do not be mistaken in thinking that I do not know those boys, that I don’t know what they’re capable of. I do not underestimate them, and neither should you. I have known many of them and their families well before they arrived at Hogwarts.”

Harry sat silently in his seat, his brow furrowed, then he shivered. Tom narrowed his eyes and instantly he knew what the boy had just pondered. He scowled and was out of his chair and kneeling in front of Harry, his hands on his knees just like the first time he’d touched Harry in his office back in September.

“I have no desire for any of them, Harry, not now or ever. Don’t be disgusting. They are not like you.”

Harry hugged himself, trembling.

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

Tom smirked, but it was gentler than he would have imagined himself capable of. “Your mind is like an open book to me, Harry. I can teach you how to change that, if you’d like… but I confess that I do enjoy reading the naughtier thoughts you have in your head.”

Harry blushed and met his eyes for a second before looking down again. Tom relaxed then, and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek. The boy didn’t resist and Tom slowly moved his lips to Harry’s ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and nibbling. Harry whimpered and Tom groaned, sliding his hands up the boy’s thighs and squeezing soothingly. "Don't worry, Harry," he whispered. "They will be punished… and not in the good way."

“Wait.”

Tom paused, his mouth against Harry’s ear.

“Wait?” he repeated softly.

Harry turned to face him, his green eyes bright with what looked suspiciously like unshed tears. The boy brought his hands down and rested them on top of Tom’s. They stared at each other for a moment, their breath mingling between them, then Harry’s dark lashes lowered.

“I – I think I need a break,” Harry whispered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter! I had a lot going on these past few weeks… thank you so much for your patience! I hope you all are enjoying it and thank you for your support. I would love to hear from you!
> 
> Also shameless plug here… If you like werewolves, please read my first ever erotic story, currently being re-worked, "Sweet Puppy"! It's Harry/Fenrir...I first posted it to AFF in 2005… wow I'm old.


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